


Courage in the Face of Fear

by kicknames



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider man far from home, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Human Experimentation, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Reveal, Kidnapped Peter, Kidnapping, London, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Poor Peter, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Tony Stark, Secret Identity, Sensory Overload, Surgery, Torture, Whump, dad tony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-08-19 14:55:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 26,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16536770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kicknames/pseuds/kicknames
Summary: Peter, Ned, and Michelle are off to London for their class trip. But what was supposed to be a fun vacation with friends turns into something much darker.AU After Civil War, but they're all friends again. Infinity War never happened.This story is for Stan Lee, who passed away 11-12-2018. Rest in peace.





	1. London

Chapter 1: London

Disclaimer: I don’t own Spiderman or Marvel, however much I wish I did

“Peter, hurry up!” Ned shouted. He and Michelle were already through the gate and halfway on the bus. We were in London for our senior class trip. The one thing that got me through senior year was this trip. Well, and my friends, I guess. If it hadn’t been for those things, I would’ve dropped out for sure, or transferred or something. Midtown was miserable.

“Yeah, coming!” I called back. Instinctively, I almost shot a web and swung to the bus, but I reminded myself just in time that it was a public place and I didn’t have my mask. Not to mention that Spider-man is supposed to be in New York; no one knew he was overseas except Mr. Stark, Ned, myself, and Aunt May. Michelle still hadn’t figured out my secret and keeping it from her was killing me. I figured I’d have to tell her sooner or later, but I was inclined to go with later. I realized that I’d never actually _told_ anyone my secret—they’d all figured it out, one way or another. Whether it was because of their crazy advanced technology, their smarts, or my own carelessness. Michelle was intuitive, though, and perceptive. If she hadn’t figured it out by now, she was bound to soon.

“What took you so long?” Michelle asked as I threw myself into the seat next to her and Ned. She had a sparkle in her eye, and she kept bouncing her knee excitedly. She loved to travel and hardly ever got the chance. She confessed that the furthest she’d ever been from New York was Ohio, and that was when she was five years old for her Grandpa’s funeral. She’d never even been on a plane before.

“Sorry, just…jet lagged I guess.” At least, that’s what I hoped. Ever since we landed, my spider-sense has been all weird. But unless there was something suspicious about a ninety-year-old vendor selling tourist-y hats, I think we’ll be okay.

Ned gave me a questioning look, but I shook my head dismissively. I was sure that if something were seriously wrong, I’d be able to tell.

“Alrighty everyone, listen up!” Mr. Harrington yelled over the chatter. The bus lurched and started down the road (on the opposite side! London is so weird) and we all quieted down. “We will be arriving at the hotel in half an hour, give or take. If you don’t remember the room assignments, I have a list right here,” I grinned at Ned; we’d be sharing a room again. Hopefully, this trip would turn out better than the Decathalon trip. Poor Michelle, she has a very small, close circle of friends which consisted of me and Ned. She had to share a room with Nancy Gibbons; a nice enough girl, but they didn’t really know each other. Michelle didn’t seem to mind, though. She was content to do her own thing without caring if you were uncomfortable. She was definitely an “acquired taste” as Aunt May once said.

The hotel was awesome, but kind of cramped. Everything in London seemed to be taller and narrow, like they couldn’t spread out anymore so they went up instead. With a pang, I wished I could put on my suit and swing around the city for a while. Nice to get a change of scenery once in a while. But no, it would be too risky. If it got out that Spiderman was in London, it might draw threats to me, or worse, my classmates.

Ned must have seen me gazing out the window wistfully. “Bet you wish you had your suit, huh?” He said sympathetically.

“Yeah,” I sighed, but immediately brightened. “But hey, it’ll be nice to take a break for a while!”

“Yeah, I guess so. But have you thought about…you know, what might happen in New York while you’re gone? What if something happens and you’re not there?”

“Mr. Stark said he’d have the Iron Legion stationed around the city, just in case,” I told him.

Ned gaped. “Really?”

“I know.”

“I’d love to see that. Have you seen them before?”

“Well…kind of, I guess.” I thought his eyes would pop out of his head. “Not closely, just as they passed by. Then I saw one all busted up in his workshop once.”

“Wow,” he said quietly. “You’re so lucky.”

“I can ask if you can stop by the tower one day to take a look, if you want,” I offered.

“Seriously? Oh my gosh that’d be _amazing!_ ”

I laughed. “Remind me when we get back. But it’s almost 5:00, we should get going.”

For our first night, we were all going to this place called Nando’s for dinner, then we were allowed to explore the area for a while before heading back to the hotel at 7:30. Mr. Harrington said he didn’t want to plan too much for the first day since we’d all be exhausted.

He was right. Half of us were falling asleep in our seats by the time dinner was served. Ned and I rejoined Michelle and grabbed a table away from our classmates. We liked to socialize with them as little as humanly possible.

“Here you are, sir,” the waiter said, sliding my plate in front of me, followed shortly by Ned’s and Michelle’s.

“Thanks,” I said, grinning. He looked as fascinated at our accents as we were by his.

“Where are you all from?” He asked, passing out the silverware.

“New York,” I said. “We’re on a school trip.”

“Which school?” He inquired.

“Midtown Tech,” I answered. He nodded like he knew it, though I wasn’t sure how he would.

“Ah, I see,” he smiled. “Well, enjoy your meal, and I wish you all a lovely stay in this marvelous city.”

“I’m sure we will.” Michelle said. We exchanged broad grins.

“Let’s eat, I’m starving,” I said, picking up my fork.

“You’re always starving.” Michelle muttered. “But I don’t know how even you are going to eat all that.”

I had ordered a big piece of chicken with some kind of spicy sauce, fries (or ‘crisps’ as they called them here), garlic bread, and corn on the cob.

“Watch me,” I said, never one to turn down a challenge. Being Spiderman had its perks, but it also came with quite a few challenges. For example, I now had a super-fast metabolism, so I could eat pretty much all I wanted with no repercussions. The annoying thing about that is that I am _always_ hungry and am never full.

Even with the weird sauce burning my mouth and making my eyes water (another annoying thing about being Spiderman: my senses have doubled, so ‘mild’ now tastes like ‘fire from the pit of hell’), I finished everything on my plate and even finished off Michelle’s plate.

“Seriously, _how_ are you still eating?” She pushed her plate away and wrapped her arms around her stomach. “I ate way too much.”

“Do you wanna go explore for a little?” Ned suggested. We’ve still got some time before curfew.”

“Yeah, sure,” I said, and we paid the bill.

The street was kind of cool, there were a bunch of shops all packed tightly together. One of them was an antique shop, not really my thing, but Michelle got really excited by a display.

“Come here guys, check it out!” She was pressed up against the window, pointing at a bunch of coins at the bottom. “They’ve got American currency for sale!”

“No way!” Ned looked inside and laughed. I laughed too, until my spider-sense flared up out of the blue.

“You okay, Peter?” Michelle asked, looking concerned.

Ned glanced up too. “Yeah, you okay? You seem a little…off.” He gave me another significant look.

Trying for a smile, I waved their concerns aside. Michelle dismissed it— “It was probably something you ate,”—but Ned lagged behind with me while she moved on to the next store.

“Seriously, you okay?” He murmured.

“I dunno…I think so,” My eyes skittered this way and that, trying to identify potential threats. Couples strolling past, holding hands, a young woman walking her dog, my classmates walking in clusters…nothing that screamed _danger!_

Then my gaze locked on something I’d missed earlier—there was a man leaning casually against a building, smoking a cigarette. There was nothing remarkable about him, nothing suspicious on first glance, but I got an uneasy feeling as I watched him. Slowly, he turned to face me, as if he knew I was watching him. But instead of getting angry or freaked out, he took a drag and blew the smoke in a cloud around his face, temporarily obscuring his features. Then he smiled, slow and lazy, and the sight chilled me to the bone.

“Ned,” I flailed around for his arm, refusing to take my eyes off the strange man.

“What?” He spluttered when my hand swatted his nose.

“Sorry. Do you see that guy over there?”

“Who?”

“That guy, right…” naturally, he was gone. Disappeared into the crowd, or maybe behind the building. There’s no telling where he went, and no time to track him down, either. Mr. Harrington was starting to call everyone back together and do a head count.

“Peter?” Ned said worriedly.

“Er…never mind, it’s nothing.” I said, trying for a nonchalant smile. “Where’s Michelle?”

We rejoined our classmates and loaded back onto the bus. We were all tired, but in good spirits. Mr. Harrington told us to get plenty of sleep, tomorrow promised to be quite a full day. Ned and I bade Michelle goodnight and went back to our room.

As I changed into my pajamas, I told myself to put the strange man out of mind. He wasn’t doing anything wrong, or remotely suspicious. I was just exhausted from the trip, that’s all.

But as I lay in bed that night, the memory of that slow smile continued to haunt me.


	2. Exploring the City

Chapter 2: Exploring the City

Disclaimer: I don’t own Spiderman or Marvel, however much I wish I did.

 _Beep. Beep. Beep._ I jerked awake and flailed around for the snooze button. Mr. Harrington told us all to meet in the lobby for breakfast at 8:30 and not a minute later, even though the bus tour didn’t start until 11:00.

Rolling over, I burrowed under the covers once more. I had only just managed to fall asleep four hours ago; I was NOT ready to get up. Mornings did not agree with me. Michelle was a morning person. She would always be a bit of a mystery to me.

“Peter, seriously. Wake up!” Ned was shaking me. I must have dozed off again without even realizing it.

I groaned and pulled the covers over my head. “Time is it?” I grunted.

“Almost 8:30. We should really get going.”

“How about…no?”

“Come on,” he grabbed my feet and dragged me out of bed.

I landed with a thump. “Ow!” I protested, rubbing my head where it had banged the floor.

“Sorry, but you _were_ kind of asking for it.”

Grumbling to myself, I got dressed quickly and sort of patted my hair down so it looked semi-okay. What did it matter, anyway? I’m never going to see these people again, except Ned and Michelle.

My hand stilled in midair over the handle at the thought. Well, I should probably comb it a little at least. _It’s definitely not because I’m trying to impress anyone,_ I told myself, wetting the comb a bit before running it through my hair. _Just don’t want people thinking I’m a total slob._

Ned and I headed down to breakfast. Michelle (surprise surprise) was already down there, sitting at a table by herself reading a book. She barely glanced up when we sat down.

“Morning,” she said, still reading.

“Morning,” Ned and I replied, rolling our eyes. Most people might consider it rude to read while your friends are trying to talk to you, but we weren’t offended; we were used to it by now.

“Sleep well?” I asked her, trying to make conversation.

She shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. I’ve been up for a while. What took you so long?”

“Peter slept through the alarm.” Ned said.

“Actually, I didn’t sleep through it, I just chose to ignore it.” I smelled something delicious waft in from the other room. “You guys hungry?”

 

 

The bus tour was right after breakfast. It was interesting, but kind of boring if I’m being honest. The city was fascinating—London is so old whereas New York is totally new and modern—but when you have to listen to a monotone middle-aged man speak about it for two and a half hours…well, it gets old quick. Plus, it was freezing and threatening to rain at any moment, and of course we had insisted on sitting on the top of the open-air double decker bus.

A violent wind came and blew off a tourist’s hat. Michelle’s hair flew sideways, directly into my face.

“Sorry,” she said.

“It’s fine,” I grimaced as another strong wind came. She shivered and rubbed her arms. “Are you cold?” I asked, starting to remove my jacket.

“Not really,” she said. I awkwardly shrugged my coat back on. Way to steal my chance to be a gentleman.

“Woah, cool! Check it out you guys!” Ned pointed urgently between two rows of buildings, where Big Ben lined up in the center of a giant Ferris wheel. Everyone stood up and rushed to the railing to get a better look.

I didn’t have time to properly appreciate it, or even take a picture, before my spider-sense flared up again. Trying my best to not let my friends see lest they get suspicious, I backed up and glanced this way and that, trying to figure out what had caused it. But yet again, there was nothing suspicious, at least not that I could see. The feeling was starting to fade, so I figured it must be my imagination.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a flash of movement. I snapped my gaze over, but I only glimpsed a black blur, it could have been anything, or anyone.

The bus lurched, and everyone returned to their seat, chatting animatedly.

“That concludes our tour, I hope you had a wonderful experience on the Redmound Tour Bus.” The tour guide said monotonously.

“Everyone, stay together and await further instruction!” Mr. Harrington shouted.

Next, we got to look around the National Gallery for a couple of hours. Michelle, Ned, and I wandered around, taking photos and checking out the art. I’m not really an art kind of guy, so after an hour or so all the paintings started to look the same. I was ready to go pretty quick.

“Jan van Eyck!” Michelle gasped, gripping my arm. “Come on, we _have_ to go see the Arnolfini painting!” She dragged us along. I tried not to think about the fact that she was still holding my arm, even after we found the painting. She only let go to point out some of the painting’s details and hidden meanings, like the significance of the figure’s positions, and a hidden figurine in the background. It was kind of interesting, I guess, but I was mostly entertained by the way she lit up and described the piece with a rare enthusiasm.

Then, for the third time in one day, my spider-sense flared up _._ At this point, I was completely fed up. _What is it this time?_ I thought irritably. _More threatening tourists? Am I sensing danger in that guy’s tacky Hawaiian shirt, is that it?_

I tried to push the feeling aside. It’s happened twice before already on this trip, and nothing has happened. I told myself I was probably just jet lagged, not to mention sleep deprived. I’d feel better after I got some rest.

We finally— _finally—_ left the museum, much to Michelle’s disappointment. She could’ve spent the whole trip there and been perfectly content. We drove over to the London Eye next, which was quite possibly the biggest Ferris Wheel I’d ever seen. The line was so long, and it took forever, but we finally got on, and it was totally worth it. You could see for miles once you reached the top. London really was a beautiful city.

 “Well, I’d say it was a pretty successful day overall, wouldn’t you say?” Mr. Harrington said once we were back on the bus rumbling back to the hotel. He was met with a drowsy “Yeah,” as a response. It really had been a fun day, but exhausting nonetheless. “Now, I know it’s early, but I want you all to try and get a good night’s rest tonight, okay? We’ve got another full day ahead of us, I don’t want any of you passing out from exhaustion.”

I can’t tell you how amazing it felt to collapse into my bed after two days of traveling on four hours sleep. I didn’t even bother to take my shoes off.

Ned chuckled from the next bed. “You’re not even gonna change first?”

“Nope.” I said into the blanket. “Too tired.”

“Okay, then.” He got up to brush his teeth and get ready for bed. “Hey, Peter?”

“Hmm?” I grunted.

“You’re…okay, right?”

Frowning, I turned to face him. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve been acting weird since last night, I can tell something’s bothering you.”

“Oh. That,” I propped myself up on my elbows. “Honestly, I don’t know. My spider-sense has been going off randomly, I can’t figure out why.”

“Doesn’t that only happen when danger’s nearby?”

“Usually. I dunno, man, I think I’m just tired, it’s probably nothing.”

“Maybe,” he said slowly.

"What?"

“It’s just…has it ever been wrong before?”

I had to think about it. “No, I guess not. But seriously, it’s probably nothing. I mean, I’m working off four hours sleep here, I’m probably just hyper-sensitive to possible threats or something. It’s happened three times, and so far, nothing’s happened.”

"Yeah, I guess. Still, though, it’s kinda weird. Promise you’ll be careful? Just in case it is trying to warn you about something?”

I scoffed. “Please, I’m always careful.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! So a couple of things:  
> 1) I read the comments, you were totally right about the spacing between the paragraphs, hopefully this is better!  
> 2) I'm thinking I'm going to update every Monday, possibly on Friday's too.  
> 3) I've got 8 chapters so far (about 12k words), looks like its' going to end up being 12 or 13 chapters, give or take.  
> Enjoy!


	3. Taken

Chapter 3: Taken

Disclaimer: I don’t own Spiderman or Marvel, however much I wish I did

“Woah, good morning, sleeping beauty,” Michelle said when Ned and I joined her at breakfast. I murmured something intelligible in response. “What happened to you?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” I said, resting my chin on my arms. My stupid spider-sense went off again in the middle of the night last night and hasn’t stopped. It’s kind of like that feeling you get when you’re trying to go to sleep, and you know you’ve got something really important to do but you just can’t remember what it is. That nagging feeling that never goes away and keeps you up all night. That’s kind of what my spider-sense felt like at the moment.

“Are you sick or something? You don’t look so good.” She put her hand to my forehead, and I tried not to blush at the sudden physical contact. She frowned. “You don’t feel warm, but I still don’t know if it’s a good idea to be walking around all day. Maybe you should stay here and rest up.”

“Yeah, that sounds like a good plan. We should talk to Mr. Harrington, I’m sure he’d be fine with you staying behind—”

“No!” I exclaimed, cutting Ned off mid sentence and sitting up. I tried to look more alert. “Seriously, I’m fine you guys.”

Michelle studied me quizzically. “I dunno, Peter, I really don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Yeah, me neither. You look sick.”

“Gee, thanks Ned,” I said sarcastically. “Really, I’ll be fine after a cup of coffee. Who knows when I’ll get to come to London again?”

They exchanged wary looks. “Alright,” Ned said hesitantly. “But if you start feeling sick, we’re taking you right back, okay?”

“Okay.”

Thankfully, today’s itinerary didn’t seem too overwhelming. We’d be going to the Tower of London for most of the day, then to a play (some Shakespeare play I’d never heard of) in the evening after a nice dinner at Launceston Place. The restaurant was supposed to be pretty good, but crazy expensive. Luckily, we did so much fundraising that we didn’t have to pay for it ourselves.

“Alright, you’re going to think I’m insanely uncultured, but what’s the Tower of London?” I asked, then sat back and listened to Michelle give an in-depth description for the next half hour.

As much as I tried to tell myself otherwise, I was feeling pretty miserable by the time we got there. I felt like I wanted to sleep, but my spider-sense wouldn’t let me. Instead of fading away like I’d hoped, it seemed to be getting stronger, making me hyper-sensitive to everything. Suddenly I was painfully aware of the tag scratching the back of my neck and the sound of the bus driver chewing gum and the smell of an old yogurt cup hidden under one of the seats. It was starting to drive me insane.

_Keep it together, Peter,_ I told myself, wishing I could yell at everyone to shut up. I squinted against the lights reflecting off passing cars, wondering if this was what it’s like to have a hangover. I wouldn’t know. Something about my Spiderman abilities made it impossible for me to get drunk.

It was a little better once we got back outside. The sun was covered by clouds, and the breeze helped clear my mind. It was a random Tuesday morning which meant not a lot of people were there. We met the tour guide inside the entrance. Hopefully, this guy was more interesting than the bus tour guide. I didn’t think I could stand another minute of that.

Ned and Michelle kept glancing over every few seconds like I could keel over at any moment, despite my reassurances.

“Are you absolutely _sure_ you’re not sick?” Michelle asked.

“ _Yes,_ ” I told her for the millionth time.

“And to your right, you’ll see the White Tower.” The tour guide said. Everyone started taking photos. “It was constructed in the early 1080’s…”

I didn’t hear the rest. My spider-sense flared up so unexpectedly I stumbled and almost fell. There were a few chuckled from my classmates, but I barely heard them. Okay, something was definitely wrong.

“Peter?” Ned asked, really concerned now.

I met his gaze. An understanding passed through us.

“I’m going to sit down for a sec,” I told him and Michelle. “Be right back.”

I dashed off back around the corner from which we came. Now, despite my sleep deprivation, I felt wide awake and alert. There was a fight coming, I was sure of it.

As if in response, I turned the corner and found myself face to face with someone’s fist, already in mid-swing, like he knew I was coming. If not for my enhanced reflexes, I would’ve earned an impressive black eye. But as it was, I dodged the blow. Taking advantage of his surprise, I kicked his legs out from under him. He went down hard. I had to give him credit, though, because he recovered faster than I expected. He kicked out and nailed me right in the stomach.

While I was doubled over, he stood back up. He then pulled out a small knife and grinned maliciously. How he’d gotten it past security, I had no idea, but that was hardly important as he lunged forward and almost sliced off my hand.

"Who are you?" I asked, dodging another blow. "What do you want?"

Instead of answering, he roared and stabbed downward. That was his big mistake. I dodged the strike and grabbed his arm, twisting it behind him and forcing him to drop his blade.

“Okay, seriously, who are you?” I still had a firm grip on his arm so he couldn’t get away. To my frustration, my spider-sense still hadn’t faded.

Instead of struggling or yelling or swearing like I might have expected of him, he started to laugh.

“What are you laughing at?” I asked, utterly bewildered at this entire turn of events.”

“What?” I asked warily.

“I’m not alone.”

I heard the tiniest of sounds behind me. I turned, too late to stop the metal pipe from striking me on the head. Everything went black.

 

 

 

 

Ned’s POV

“Peter!” I shouted. Where the hell was he? He went off by himself about twenty minutes ago and he hadn’t come back. I knew from his expression that it had something to do with Spiderman or some other superhero-related issue, but he didn’t tell me what. He couldn’t have, anyway, with Michelle right there. But she was observant, she knew when something was up.

“He’s been gone awhile,” she had said, about fifteen minutes after he left. “Do you think we should go check on him?”

“Er…I’m sure he’s fine,” I lied. On one hand, I was super worried about him, but on the other, he was Spiderman, he’d be fine. Plus, I didn’t want to stumble across him in the middle of a fight, then Michelle would know his secret. And for whatever reason, he wanted as few people to know as possible.

She looked uncertain. “I’m going to go look for him. You can come if you want.” She said and marched off.

So here we were, five minutes later and still no sign of Peter.

“Where did he go?” Michelle wondered aloud. She tried to hide it, but I could detect a hint of panic in her voice. “He can’t have gone far. Unless you think he went back to the bus?”

“Maybe,” I said, though I didn’t believe it. “Let’s go check.”

We rounded the corner and, quite suddenly, Michelle froze in her tracks.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, following her gaze. She crouched, and when she stood up, she was holding a small knife in her hand, like a dagger.

“How did this get in here?” She studied it from all angles. It didn’t have any blood on it, which was a momentary relief. Then her vaguely curious expression melted into one of horror. She bent over again and picked up a small, rectangular object.

“Is that--?” The words stuck in my throat.

“Peter’s phone,” she finished weakly. The screen was cracked, like it had been dropped or tossed.

“Hey, let’s not jump to conclusions, we don’t know what happened. Actually, are we even sure it’s his phone?” I took it from her and hit the power button. But instead of being greeted by the familiar photo of the three of us, a brief message popped up. It read: _You’ll never find him._

We stared at the message in silence. “Wha…what does that mean? What’s going on?”

With a resigned sigh, I looked to her, apologizing to Peter silently. “Michelle, there’s something you should know.”

 

 

 

 

Tony’s POV

Another long day at the Avenger’s Headquarters, filled with moronic assistants and infuriating coworkers. Cap had just gotten back from a mission two weeks ago and had been strutting around ever since like he owned the place. It had been a fairly straightforward mission—retrieving the files someone (Scott) had let slip into enemy hands. Along with Cap went Barnes and Wanda, who never went anywhere without him, and Scott himself. Scott had already been the joke of the team, but ever since he let those files get away from him, the ridicule had tripled. I almost felt bad for him, but not quite.

“Friday, any news from the Iron Legion?”

“Nothing major, boss. Six attempted burglaries, two attempted assaults…” she rattled off a few more, but I wasn’t really paying attention. There were too many other things to worry about, like a new upgrade on Rhodey’s leg braces I’d been working on.

“Sir, incoming call from: Peter Parker.”

“Oh really?” I said, amused. Peter was no doubt calling to tell me all about what a wonderful time he was having in London. He had texted me a photo the other night of him and his friends on the plane. I recognized one of them—Ned, I believe. We’d met once, briefly, though I don’t recall ever meeting the girl. I wondered if that might be Michelle. I’d heard Peter talk about her a few times.

“Yeah, put him through.” Friday obliged. “Hey kid, how’s London?”

“Um, actually…” I frowned. That didn’t sound like Peter. “This is Ned Leeds, I’m a friend of Peter Parker’s.”

I blinked in surprise. “Oh. Ned, yeah, that sounds familiar. What’s going on? Where’s Peter?”

“That’s actually why I called, sir.”

He hesitated, and for a moment I thought the call had been disconnected. “Still there?” I asked.

“Sorry, yeah, just trying to figure out how to…” He sighed. “We think something happened to Peter.”

I froze and set down the project I’d been working on. “Tell me.”

He relayed the whole story, how Peter had been acting weird, and that his spider-sense kept going off. Then how he ran off and they found a knife a while later with his cellphone containing a disturbing message.

I was quiet for a moment. “Okay. Who else have you told?”

“Just you, sir. And Michelle, she’s another friend of Peter’s. She found the knife and the phone. And I told her about...you know. The whole Spiderman thing." He said the last part in a whisper.

Thinking hard, I nodded, though he couldn’t see. “Alright, we can’t be sure this is a Spiderman issue, it could have been a common criminal,” I thought aloud. “If that’s the case, the police should be involved. Tell your chaperone or your teacher or whoever, then call the police. But if this does have to do with Spiderman…” I stood up, shutting down the computer I had been using and striding towards the door. “Send me the address to your hotel, I’ll be there in the morning. End call.”


	4. Dr. O'Connor

Chapter 4: Dr. O’Connor

Disclaimer: I don’t own Spiderman or Marvel, however much I wish I did

I don’t know how long I was out, but I awoke suddenly all alone in a strange room. I was lying down, but when I tried to sit up, I found that I couldn’t.

“What the hell?” I groaned and squinted in the artificial light. I seemed to be bound to a cold metal table in some kind of basement, though I couldn’t tell for sure with the light burning my eyes. There were also straps across my chest and around each ankle. Try as I might, I couldn’t pull myself free, the bindings were just too strong.

“Yes, I think you’ll find that our security measures are strong enough to hold even you, Spiderman,” said a voice to my left.

I stiffened. How did he know who I was? I voiced my question out loud, but he just laughed. The voice was deep and soft, it chilled me to the bone.

“I have my sources,” he said, stepping into the light. On his head was a snug cap, like the ones doctors wore. He also wore a white lab coat and a stethoscope around his neck. My gut filled with dread as I took his appearance.

“Who are you?” I asked, not really expecting an answer, mostly trying to stall him while I figured something out.

“I am Dr. O’Connor,” He said, surprising me. “I have been fascinated by you for some time, my young arachnid.” When he ran his knuckles down the side of my face, I noticed a distinct tan line around his wrist, probably from a watch or something. I jerked away.

“Wait, your accent,” I said, only just having noticed. “You’re…are you a New Yorker?”

“Indeed I am,” he replied. “I’ve had my eye on you for quite some time, but there was never an opportunity to approach you with that Stark around,” he had a vicious gleam in his eye, but it cleared a second later. “But, he’s not here now, is he?”

“He’ll find me,” I said confidently.

He laughed again. “I doubt that. Do you know where you are right now? You are in a secret facility buried over three hundred feet in the ground, surrounded by a top of the line security system. And if you’re hoping he’ll track your cell phone,” he said as if reading my thoughts. “Don’t. We left your phone back at the Tower of London.”

“My friends will—”

“Oh, for their sake, I hope they don’t.” He said. “You wouldn’t want them to get hurt on your account, would you?” I clenched my jaw.

“I thought not. Now, with all that out of the way, allow me to introduce myself.” He slid a chair over and sat down next to me. “I, as you have no doubt noticed, am a scientist. I wished to study and understand every creature from the smallest insect to the largest mammal. I dedicated the majority of my life learning, reading, dissenting animals of every kind, but none of them really sparked my interest. Until you came along,” his eyes twinkled. I gulped. “From the very first moment I saw you, I sought to study you, to learn how your abilities came to be. I wish to know how you cling to walls, how you can bear weights hundreds of times heavier than an ordinary man, how you can walk on walls in a seemingly gravity-defying manner! And with your cooperation, I believe I can do just that.”

“My cooperation? You’re crazy!” I said, pulling against the restraints, though I knew it was futile.

“You may not understand now, my pet, but you will soon realize that what I’m doing is for a good cause, a righteous cause: the furtherment of science.”

He stood up eagerly. “Let’s not waste any more time with idle chatter. Let us begin!”

“What?” I said, startled by his abruptness. He stood near my head and pushed the table forward, startling me again. I didn’t realize the table had wheels.

I thrashed and fought with all my might, but he merely smiled like I was a child who was afraid to get a shot. “Shhh, my young spider. It will be over soon.”

I seriously doubted that, but I didn’t have a chance to say so before he pushed the table through a set of double doors. It looked like an operating room.

As he pushed me along, I saw several other doctors, all of them wearing face masks so I couldn’t tell much about them. There were a couple of security guards posted by the doors. He let the table rest in the middle of the room, under another set of glaringly bright lights.

“I will only be but a moment,” Dr. O’Connor said, washing his hands thoroughly in a sink against the wall. I stared around at the doctors, searching for any sign of sympathy or even uncertainty, but I found none. I lifted my head as much as I could. I wore only a pair of boxer shorts. Even my socks had been removed. There were a bunch of electrodes attached to my chest and I thought I felt some on my head, too. The bonds around my chest and limbs were made of a thick leather. It would be tough to tear through, but maybe if I could get my hands on a scalpel or even a pair of scissors…

Dr. O’Connor turned the sink off, dried his hands, and allowed a couple of doctors to snap some rubber gloves over his hands. He approached the table again, and the rest of the doctors followed his lead. I felt strangely self-consciousness with them all staring down at me.

“Dr. Oberon, the anesthesia.” Dr O’Connor instructed. The anesthesia machine was wheeled over.

“No!” I shouted, turning my head when they tried to lower the mask onto my face. They jumped back, almost as if they were surprised I didn’t want to be knocked out so I could be cut open by a bunch of psychopaths.

“Now, now, little spider,” Dr. O’Connor scolded like one might scold a dog. “Let us put the mask on, you don’t want to be awake for the operation, do you?” I didn’t respond. I was afraid I might throw up if I opened my mouth, though that might not have been such a bad thing.

He took my silence for agreement. He nodded at the doctor, but I turned away again. Exasperated, he had a couple other doctors hold me steady while they held the mask over my mouth and nose. I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting to be taken into unconsciousness. I felt a little drowsy, but after thirty seconds, I was still awake. Shouldn’t I be out by now?

I cracked my eyes open to find all the doctors staring at me interestedly. “Fascinating,” Dr. O’Connor muttered. “He doesn’t respond to anesthesia!”

“Shall we try a higher dosage?” Someone suggested. They tried that, they tried other medications, they tried a million other things, but it seems I was immune. Just as I was starting to hope that Dr. O’Connor would give up and let me go, he said something so utterly shocking I didn’t have time to react: “Dr. Brians, go fetch some more restraints. We’ll just have to continue without sedating him.”

 

 

 

 

They operated for six hours. Six hours of cutting, slicing, recording, and examining, all the while I lay there, wide awake, unable to lift a finger to protect myself. I screamed my throat raw. Soon after they started, they secured my mouth shut with an odd muzzle-like contraption. While it kept me from screaming, my jaw was bruised and throbbing from the strain. So were my wrists, torso, and ankles.

Once they finally decided they had obtained all the information they needed, they stitched me up and wheeled me back to the room I woke up in. They thanked me for being such a good subject and left so I could rest.

I couldn’t remember ever being in more pain; every time I moved, even to breathe, a shooting pain would course through my body. It felt like my skin was being burned with acid, like I could die at any second. Sleeping proved to be a difficult task between this and the light still on, but after my heart rate dropped to a normal speed, I fell into a restless sleep from sheer exhaustion.

I was awoken several times over the next—day? Week? It could’ve been a year for all I knew—by Dr. O’Connor. He would approach with a clipboard and take diligent notes. Then he’d smile at me, his creepy, bone-chilling smile, tell me I was healing nicely, and leave me to rest again.

On his sixth visit, he declared that I was fully healed.

“Remarkable!” He cried, eyes glinting. “Completely healed, though you will have minor scarring. You managed to heal in a fraction of the time a normal man would’ve taken. Isn’t that intriguing?”

“You know what would be _really_ intriguing?” I hissed through clenched teeth. “Shoving that pen into your eye and seeing how long _that_ would take to heal.”

“Mhmm,” he said absently, thinking hard. “I wonder…” He trailed off, tapping his clipboard with his pen.

“You wonder?” I repeated, though I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what he was thinking.

His eyes focused on me again. “You healed at an astonishing rate, but these were precise incisions, and you were sewn back together, thus aiding the healing process…” I didn’t like where this was headed. “I wonder, would all wounds heal that quickly? Does the severity of the wound hinder the healing process, and if so, by how much?” He said, more to himself than me.

Beaming at me, he gave me an affectionate pat on the cheek. I flinched away. Unabashed, he said, “Well, I think we’ve come up with out next round of tests!”

“ _What?_ ” I yelped. “But…what about all that stuff you did in the operating room! What was all that for?”

“Oh, you were very helpful, I assure you.” He patted my cheek again, but I was too terrified to withdraw. “But that was merely the beginning! We have much more in store for you, little spider.”

And with that, he strolled out of the room yelling instructions to his colleagues with me screaming after him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I finished the story last night, the final word count is over 26k and has 12 chapters. I don't think I'm going to post them all at once because I want to build the suspense (evil laugh) but I might update Friday as well as Monday. What do you think?


	5. Burning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a shorter chapter this week, but thank you everyone who's read this far!!

Chapter 5: Burning

Disclaimer: I don’t own Spiderman or Marvel, however much I wish I did

Michelle’s POV

 _Peter Parker is Spiderman. My best friend is secretly a superhero. Peter is Spiderman…_ The same thought ran through my mind like a loop ever since Ned told me. I was having trouble wrapping my head around it, though he had told me over 24 hours ago. It made sense, I suppose; there were a lot of things about Peter that I couldn’t quite explain otherwise, like his insanely fast reflexes, how he never gets sick, and why he was so secretive about what he did exactly as a Stark intern. Still, part of me didn’t want to believe it. I couldn’t help but be slightly hurt that he hadn’t told me his secret. I mean, he told Ned and his aunt, why didn’t he tell me?

 _Maybe he doesn’t care about you the same way you care about him._ The thought kept bubbling up in my head and while I tried to drown it out, part of me couldn’t help but think it was true. What other explanation could there be?

Mr. Stark (he said to call him Tony, but I’d grown used to hearing Peter call him Mr. Stark) arrived at the hotel hours after we called him. He brought with him his Iron Man suit and a bunch of technology I couldn’t even begin to understand. Ned had a field day, especially after Mr. Stark said he needed our help to track Peter down.

“So we get to use all this?” Ned said, eyes wider than I’d ever seen.

“That’s the idea, yes.” Mr. Stark said, opening a computer and passing it to Ned. He did the same for me.

After we told Mr. Harrington and the police the situation, we were allowed to return to the hotel, which is where we’d been for the past day. Ned and I were so relieved when Mr. Stark finally showed up because we had no idea what to do. We had spent our time reading online articles, watching the news, scrounging for anything on social media that might give a clue as to what happened to Peter. When Mr. Stark showed up, he said we did exactly the right thing. He had me continue doing that while Ned told him in greater detail exactly what happened. Then the two of them (Mr. Stark in a disguise, of course) went back to where we went yesterday and look for clues. They’d returned late that night with a few possible leads, but nothing promising.

“Ned, how’s it coming over there?” Mr. Stark asked.

“Okay, I guess. Haven’t found anything yet. What about you, Michelle? Anything?”

“Not so far.” I clicked to another channel. “Mr. Stark?”

He rubbed his eyes tiredly. I was surprised to see how much Peter’s kidnapping was affecting him. He looked anxious and exhausted, his hair was a mess, his shirt rumpled. He looked nothing like the self-confident, put-together man I saw on TV.

We were quiet for a while, then Friday’s voice piped up from one of the computers. “Match found,” she chirped, all three of us jumping in surprise.

“The fingerprints on the knife belong to: Miles Weston. Age 34, address:…” She continued to rattle off information. He had a criminal record, including theft and a couple cases of kidnapping. Ned and I crowded around the computer to get a better look at him. He looked vaguely familiar, though I couldn’t quite place it. I did a quick search.

“Look!” I cried, showing them the computer screen. “He was spotted on Charles Street two nights ago! That’s the same night we were there, remember Ned?”

“That’s right!” He looked thoughtful. “And he was acting super strange that night, he must’ve known something was up.”

Mr. Stark stood up, a new look of determination in his eye. “That’s a start. What do you say we pay him a visit?”

 

 

 

 

Peter’s POV

“And without further ado, let us begin!” Dr. O’Connor cried. He had just finished explaining to his fellow doctors his next grand idea: to see how my healing factor would react differently to varying types and severity of injury.

I was back in the operating room. They had me strapped down to a different table this time, with my arms stretched out to either side like I was being crucified. You know those allergy tests where the doctor draws a grid on your back so they can keep track of your allergies? That’s kind of what was going on here, except instead of my back, it was my arms, and instead of allergies, it was burns.

“Now,” Dr. O’Connor told me while his colleagues ran around to prep everything. “I want you full cooperation today, alright? None of that behavior we saw last time.”

“I’ll do my best,” I growled, but he didn’t seem to catch the sarcasm, because he merely smiled and thanked me. He wandered off to help get everything ready.

I knew it was pointless, but I strained against my bonds. I thought maybe since my arms were in a different position I could pull them free, but it was futile. For an exciting moment, I thought I felt the strap on my left wrist give a little, but it must have been my imagination.

The doctors were ready much sooner than I was. They were trying a new sedation formula today, which I hoped would succeed in knocking me out.

Luck was not on my side, not like it ever was. They lowered the mask over my mouth and nose, but after thirty seconds, all it did was make me drowsy and weak, like I’d just run a marathon.

“That’s progress!” Dr. O’Connor said excitedly. It sounded like he was underwater. “Now we can begin.”

In my strange half-awake state, I became aware of some noise off to my left. Or was it my right? I couldn’t focus. The lights were distorting my vision more than normal, the doctors were fading in and out of focus.

Suddenly, everything was set into sharp focus for a moment at the intense pain on my wrist. It faded shortly after. The same thing happened in a different spot on my arm. What was going on? Who were all these people?

Another burst of pain. They seemed to be getting more intense. With difficulty, I turned my head to the side, but I only caught a glimpse before my head was forced back.

I lost all sense of time. All I knew was every time I thought, _There’s no way it can get any worse than this,_ it did. Again and again and again until my voice was hoarse from screaming and my vision was blurry with tears.

At last, when I thought I would pass out from the pain, I felt myself being moved. There was a figure standing over my head, though I didn’t recognize him. I tried to sit up, couldn’t. I tried to say something, no words came out.

I came to a stop in a room that seemed vaguely familiar. _Is this my room?_ I wondered. The figure said something indistinguishable and I was left alone, more confused and afraid than I’d ever been.


	6. Investigation

Chapter 6: Investigation

Disclaimer: I don’t own Spiderman or Marvel, however much I wish I did

Michelle’s POV

“I told you, I don’t know anything!” Miles Weston cried, raising his hands defensively. Mr. Stark was wearing his Iron Man suit, and he had Miles pinned against the wall with a metal arm pressed against his throat. Ned and I were standing off to the side, not really contributing. I knew Mr. Stark didn’t need our help; in fact, we were probably an inconvenience to bring along, but I was glad he didn’t leave us back at the hotel. After all, we were Peter’s closest friends.

“I find that hard to believe,” Mr. Stark said. “So I’m going to ask you again: where is Peter?” His voice was cold and steady. I would not want to be on the receiving end of this situation.

Miles seemed to be having a similar thought. His eyes widened in terror as the shoulder compartment on the Iron Man suit slid open and a tiny gun or bomb or something pointed at him.

“I…I—” Miles stammered. He took a calming breath and when he spoke again, his voice was a little steadier. “I don’t know where he is. I’m just the guy they hired to track him down and get him alone, so they could grab him.”

“Who hired you? Why? What did they want with him?” Mr. Stark demanded, pushing his arm more firmly against his throat.

“I don’t know!” He choked. “I only met the guy once, and it was only for a few minutes!”

“What did he look like?”

“I…it was dark, he was wearing a hood and sunglasses.”

“Was he young or old? Tall or short? Give me something here!” The gun on his shoulder moved a little closer to Miles’ face.

He stared at the gun, utterly petrified. “He…he was older, I guess, maybe late forties? Um, average build, maybe a little on the bigger side. New York accent…I don’t know, that’s all I remember, I swear!”

“That’s it?” Mr. Stark said angrily. We were all hoping for more information than that. “They didn’t say why they wanted him? Where they were taking him?”

He shook his head. He was turning redder by the second, probably from lack of oxygen. “No, that’s it. Well, there’s one more thing, but it’s not important.”

“Let me be the judge of that.”

“Okay, it’s over there on the counter, by the girl.” I turned to the left to the counter he indicated but didn’t see anything that looked like evidence. A stack of mail, a pack of cigarettes, some loose change in a dish with some keys and a watch.

“Um, could you be more specific?” I asked.

“The watch, the one in the tray! I nabbed it from him when we shook hands.”

Mr. Stark stopped me just before I picked it up. “Wait,” he said. “There might still be some fingerprints on it.”

He released Miles, who sucked in a grateful breath.

“Don’t move,” Mr. Stark told him, indicating the gun on his shoulder which stayed trained on Miles. He obeyed.

Mr. Stark picked up the watch, careful not to smudge any fingerprints. He turned back to Miles, gun still pointed at him. His mask opened, and he smiled.

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Weston. You’ve been very helpful. But if I ever catch you doing something like this again…”

He didn’t need to finish his sentence. Miles nodded vigorously, then flat out fainted.

Mr. Stark faced us, a glint in his eye. “Let’s go, we’ve got work to do.”

 

 

 

 

Peter’s POV

The burns on my arm had almost healed, though not completely. It had taken longer than Dr. O’Connor had hoped or expected, so he decided to run some less invasive tests while I healed. They gave me more of the sedative which was slightly stronger this time, so I was awake, but pretty much incapable of voluntary movement or sound. I guess they untied me from the table, only to bind my wrists and ankles together with chains. I don’t remember much about it, just a lot of dizziness and confusion. They also dressed me in a simple cotton shirt and pants. Then they brought me into a brightly lit white room shaped like an octagon. The walls were made of odd materials, one was slick and shiny, one was rough and coarse, one was glass. I focused on the glass one and saw Dr. O’Connor standing on the other side with a few other doctors.

“What is this?” I asked, not sure if I wanted to hear the answer.

“Excellent question!” He said excitedly. “This is where we will be conducting our next experiment. Now, during our first study, we examined your skin and what exactly made you able to cling to walls and while our research told us quite a bit, we still have some questions. Your task is simple; we’d like you to simply climb the walls. Can you do that for us?”

His voice set my teeth on edge. The way he spoke, it was like I was some animal he was trying to train. His insanity was becoming more and more evident.

“I dunno,” I said flatly. “It might be kinda tough in these chains,” I held up my wrists and rattled the chains a little.

“Oh, I think you’ll manage. Because if you don’t, well…” he nodded at another doctor. Suddenly, the room was filled with a horrible, pulsating sound. I collapsed to my knees, covering my ears and screaming. The noise was so loud I couldn’t even hear my own voice.

Just as quickly as it started, the sound shut off, laving only a faint ringing in my ears. I drew in a shuddering breath. My face was damp with tears, but I was so shaken I wasn’t even embarrassed.

“You see, we were able to learn quite a bit about you during our first round of tests,” Dr. O’Connor continued like nothing had happened. “Like how your senses have been heightened. One of our brilliant scientists, Dr. Weary, managed to find the exact frequency that will be the most…effective for our purposes.” I barely heard him. I was too busy trying to stop trembling. “So I do hope you will cooperate, we would hate to do again. But if necessary, we will. Shall we begin?”

I pressed a hand to my chest, like that might help slow my heartrate. But I didn’t feel afraid, as I thought I would. I could either follow his instructions or go through that hell again. He was offering me a choice, which is something he hadn’t given me until this point. This test could be futile; he might not learn anything useful. But what if he did learn something and used it against me, like he did with the first round of tests?

I made my decision. A stupid one, probably, but I refused to be treated like an animal anymore if I could help it.

“First, I’d like you to climb that wall to your right. It’s made of the same material as many buildings in New York, this will serve as a kind of control, if you will—”

“No.” I said.

He blinked. “What do you mean, no?”

“I mean no. I’m not going to cooperate.”

He looked at me sadly, shaking his head. “Oh, my dear little spider. There’s so much you need to learn.” He nodded at the doctor again, and the noise started up again. Even though I was expecting it, it was still painful. My hands went instinctively to my ears. The chain struck my chin, but I barely noticed.

After a couple minutes, it shut off. The silence that followed was almost more shocking than the noise.

“Now! Are you ready to cooperate?” He said. His voice sounded oddly quiet and distant.

I opened my mouth, but no words came out. Instead, I shook my head side to side, crushing my eyes shut in preparation.

“So be it.” The noise started up again and didn’t stop for a long, long time.

 

Dr. O’Connor’s POV

“It’s been over two hours, sir, should we try again tomorrow?” Asked Dr. Weary.

I stared at our little spider in frustration. Why wouldn’t he just do what I asked? Why couldn’t he see that I was doing all this for a good cause?

“Doctor?” She repeated, I flinched.

“What was that?” I asked. She repeated her question. I considered for a moment, watching our little spider. It was crouched in a corner, writhing in agony. It had stopped screaming a while ago, though its face contorted in pain. None of my other subjects have been this stubborn. I brushed my concerns aside. It would learn to cooperate eventually.

“Let me speak to it for a moment,” I told her. She shut off the noise. The spider’s eyes shot open and I saw it take a deep breath. It wept in relief.

Pulling the microphone towards me, I pressed the button, so it could hear me. “That was painful, wasn’t it? Don’t worry, you won’t have to go through that again as long as you simply do as we ask—”

It shook its head vigorously, not looking at me. Its shoulders were quaking, but the look of determination didn’t leave its’ face.

A wave of determination swept over me as well. “Have it your way.” I released the button and turned to Weary. “Start the noise again. In about five hours, it should be ready for more testing of its’ healing factor. Stop the noise every hour, ask it if it’s going to cooperate, and if it refuses, increase the volume of the noise.”

Her eyes widened. “But, sir, that could cause permanent damage! It may never be able to hear again, it may even cause madness—”

“I don’t care!” I snarled. Attempting to lower my voice a bit, I smiled and said, “Besides, it’s got a healing factor, right? This could be useful to us.”

“I suppose…”

“Start the noise. Call me if anything changes.”

“Yes sir.”

I paused in the doorway and watched as she started up the noise again. I saw the spider cry out and fall to the floor again.


	7. Hope

Chapter 7: Hope

Disclaimer: I don’t own Spiderman or Marvel, however much I wish I did

I was almost relieved when a couple of doctors came and strapped me back onto the table. I felt a little proud, too. He hadn’t broken me, though I didn’t want to think how close he’d gotten. By the end of my time in that room, I’d been almost tempted to give in, let them run their stupid tests. What did it matter anyway? How could they possibly hurt me more? But, being a stubborn teenager, I held on.

When the doctors came in to get me, I didn’t even try to fight. I was too disoriented and scared to do anything other than sit there and focus on breathing. They rolled me down the hall, back to the room I had first woken up in. Relief swept over me; at last, they would leave me alone and let me rest.

I was alone for no more than fifteen seconds when the door opened, and I knew my troubles were far from over.

Dr. O’Connor stood over me, looking stern. He let out a long sigh and shook his head. “I’m disappointed in you.” He said.

My brain was still a bit muddled, but my sarcasm was still intact. “I’m very sorry to hear that,” I replied.

“You see,” he continued, pulling up a chair like I hadn’t even spoken. “I thought that you understood. I thought you saw that the work I’m doing here is meant only to help you, to help everyone! After all, information is power. And I think that if you were to try a little harder, you could see things my way.”

“Right,” I said. There was still a persistent ringing in my ears, who knew how long that would last. “So you want me to understand that I should stop being so selfish and let you torture me just so—”

“Torture?” He sounded aghast. “No, no, no, my dear spider, this is not torture. These are merely tests. And the more tests we run, the more information we glean, do you understand that?”

“Yeah, well, as pure as your intentions are, it’s still torture as far as I’m—”

“No!” He closed his eyes and took a calming breath. “I am a _scientist,_ ” he said slowly, like a father trying to explain something to a child. “I run tests, and sometimes they have unpleasant side effects—”

“Operating on someone without their consent or a sedative is not a side effect!” I said, but it didn’t make a difference. Dr. O’Connor was psychotic, literally. I was convinced of it.

He slammed his fist on the table an inch away from my ear. I flinched in surprise—this was the first sign of outright aggression he’s shown. He shoved his face uncomfortably close to mine; so close I could smell his breath and beads of sweat on his brow. I tried to turn away, but he grabbed my jaw and forced me to look at him.

“One way or another,” he growled, voice eerily quiet. “You will learn to do as I say. It is your choice whether we do that the easy way, or the hard way. Do you understand?”

I locked my jaw and met his gaze.

“ _Do you understand?_ ”

When I still didn’t respond, he roared in anger and struck me across the face. I felt my nose crunch under his fist, but I stubbornly refused to cry out; I would not give him the satisfaction. I could feel the blood slowly oozing down my face; it was infuriating to not even be able to wipe it away.

He took a few deep breaths. Straightening his lab coat, he said, in an almost pleasant tone, “I will be back shortly for your next round of tests. Perhaps, when we next see each other, you will have come to your senses.”

He closed the door behind him and I was left alone again. But instead of feeling scared or anxious, I felt the first ray of hope I’d felt since arriving here. Because when he had leaned over me and struck me, he failed to notice something, and that something could cost him dearly.

Very carefully, I maneuvered the scalpel to slide under the bindings on my left wrist and got to work.

 

 

 

 

Ned’s POV

“Dr. O’Connor…Dr. O’Connor…Why does that name sound familiar?” I wondered aloud. Friday had just found a match to one of the fingerprints on the watch. It had taken a long time, most of the fingerprints belonged to Miles, and the other ones were either partial or too faint to make out. But after a few hours, she’d been able to piece them together enough to form a distinguishable fingerprint. After that, it was only a matter of time before she found a match.

“He’s from New York,” Mr. Stark said, skimming the numerous reports for any piece of information that could give us a clue as to Peter’s whereabouts. As the day faded to night and back into day, we became more and more on edge. It’s been too long now, I think we all expected to have made more progress by now.

“New York?” Michelle frowned. “What’s he doing in London? There’s no way it’s a coincidence, him being here the same week as Peter.”

“No,” Mr. Stark said absently. “I’ll bet he’s known who Peter really is for a long time now and was just waiting for the perfect moment to take him.”

I gulped. “What do you think he wanted him for?”

“I don’t know, but I doubt it was to get an autograph,” he frowned at the screen and enlarged it so we could see. We were currently on the Quinjet Mr. Stark had taken to London, so we had a lot more space and technology to do our research. I was having a hard time hiding my awe; I’d wanted to see the inside of one of these practically my whole life. “Take a look at this. He’s an anatomist and a zoologist, he’s discovered over 25 different kinds of arachnids worldwide.”

“Arachnids?” I chuckled. “No wonder he was after Spiderman.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Michelle pointed to a section a little further down the page. “It says here that there was an unknown chemical outbreak in his lab in late 2015,” she read. “Most of the scientists were killed, some were never found. Dr. O’Connor was proclaimed dead, though no body was found.”

“So, he’s clearly not dead, but how does that help?” I asked.

Mr. Stark rubbed his eyes tiredly. He hadn’t slept in a long time, and it was really starting to show. “Okay, let’s think…Let’s assume he’s known who Peter is for a long time, so he must have been preparing for this. He’d need a base, somewhere to keep him…”

“Somewhere that’s probably back in New York, or at least _near_ New York, right?” Michelle said thoughtfully. “I mean, he couldn’t have known Peter would be here until recently, right? That means he probably came to London a little before we got here, hired Miles to tail him, then get him alone so he could grab him.”

“Right,” Mr. Stark muttered, sitting up and looking slightly more awake. “Then taken him back to New York and let us find Miles so we’d be looking in all the wrong places. That’s probably why he left the knife at the Tower, because he knew we could track him down.”

“And he was very careful to hide his identity, so even if we did find Miles, we couldn’t have found Dr. O’Connor,” I contributed. “But he stole his watch, which he didn’t anticipate.”

“Exactly!” Mr. Stark stood up, real hope in his eye for the first time in days. “Let’s get in touch with your chaperone. We’re leaving for New York tonight.”


	8. So Close, and Yet, so Far

Chapter 8: So Close, and Yet, so Far

Disclaimer: I don’t own Spiderman or Marvel, however much I wish I did

 _Snap!_ Went the first strap around my wrist. I gave a cry of joy, but immediately bit my lip, listening hard, hoping nobody had heard. After a few tense moments, I judged it safe to continue. I lifted my left arm and angled the scalpel against the next strap, the one around my chest.

 _Snap!_ That one burst open, and I sucked in a grateful breath, my first one in days. Next, my right arm. _Snap!_

I thought I heard some rustling outside the door. Dr. O’Connor said he’s be back soon, I’d have to work quickly. My heart was in my throat. Sitting up, I sawed the scalpel back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, until _Snap! Clang!_

“No, no, no, no, no!” I muttered. In my haste, the scalpel had slipped from my grasp and fallen to the ground, clanging against the table’s metal leg.

“What was that?” Came a voice maybe 50 feet down the hall.

I looked from the door to the scalpel to the strap around my left ankle. I couldn’t reach the scalpel as long I was still tied to the table, and it’s not like I could’ve laid back down and hoped they wouldn’t notice that the straps were cut.

“That banging, didn’t you hear it?” I could make out two sets of footsteps headed my way, they were almost here.

The doorknob started to turn. Desperate, I worked my fingers between my ankle and the leather and pulled for all I was worth.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Said one of the doctors, rushing towards me. The other one said something in his device, I didn’t pay attention. Probably calling for backup or something.

The doctor was two steps away when, at last, I tore the leather in half. Without thinking, I leapt off the table and shoved it towards the doctors with all my might. It worked better than I expected; it crashed into them, sending them both flying backwards and into the wall where they slumped to the ground, unconscious.

I cringed. “Yikes, sorry,” I said. Sprinting out the door, I shook my head, muttering to myself. “ _I’m_ sorry? What the hell am _I_ sorry for?”

I ran faster than I ever have before. The hall twisted and turned, but there didn’t seem to be a staircase anywhere. I was really hoping for a helpful sign directing me to an elevator or something, but there was nothing. A few dead ends, a couple of vacated labs, but I could not find the exit.

Doubling back, I found myself face to face with a big security guard. He had a walkie-talkie in one hand and a taser in the other.

“Stay where you are!” He threatened, aiming the taser at me. “This is strong enough to take you down, maybe even kill you, and I’m not afraid to use it!” I believed him, but I wasn’t scared of him. With the adrenaline rush, I felt much more alert and energized. Nowhere near good as new, but strong enough to defend myself, at least.

Without breaking eye contact, I raised my hands in surrender. He took a step closer, pressing a button on his walkie-talkie. “I’ve got him, he’s in the southwest branch near operating room D4—”

That was as far as he got. As soon as he was in arms reach, I jumped forward and attacked. It wasn’t much of a fight, though, he was unconscious on the floor in four seconds flat.

A door slammed, people shouted, started running in my direction. “Shit,” I said, taking a panicked look around. I might be able to take a few, but from the sound of it, there were at least a dozen people were headed my way. I ducked into the door to my right and slammed it behind me. The footsteps filled the hall. I grabbed a strange metal contraption on the nearby counter and shoved it in the handle. Just in the nick of time, too, because not a second later, they were there, pounding on the door and shouting incoherently.

I gasped for breath and buried my fingers in my hair. Now what? I’ve trapped myself in an empty lab with no doors or windows in sight. There were absolutely no exits—the floor was perfectly flat, no drains or anything. I mean, even the ceiling was covered in shiny, flat metal. There were holes for the lights, but they were only a couple of inches in diameter. The only possible way out was the grate near the wall, but it looked a little too small to get through, and besides, it was right next to the door I’d just come through.

“Great, I’ve trapped myself in another cage,” I groaned helplessly.

“Indeed you have, young spider.” Came Dr. O’Connor’s voice from the grate. “I couldn’t have chosen a better cage myself. Now, I’m going to offer you a choice: either you come out now and don’t try to fight, and we will forget any of this ever happened. Or,” I could practically hear him smile. “You could stay in there, where I promise things will get extremely unpleasant.”

“Yeah,” I said, taking another look around the room. “You know, I think I’m good in here, thanks.”

He sighed disappointedly. “I thought you might say that. Dr. Nolan?”

I thought for sure they’d bust the door down, come flooding inside, guns blazing, but nothing happened. I approached the door suspiciously. Even with my enhanced hearing, I could detect nothing suspicious. Until…what was that? Some kind of hissing noise.

“What are they _doing_ out there?” I wondered aloud. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed something. Some kind of smoke seeping through the grate.

“What is this?” I said, but I wasn’t sure if I was talking to myself or Dr. O’Connor.

“That, my pet, is a combination of Ashuenyx and Osmeolium. We manufactured it right here in this very facility."

I didn't know what Ashuenyx or Osmeolium were, but I didn't want to find out. The cloud touched me bare feet. It was eerily beautiful; a thick, pearlescent mist swirling hypnotically. It made me want to step into it, let it sweep me into a dreamless sleep. I probably would have, if not for my spider sense, which snapped me out of my trance.

I pressed myself against the wall furthest from the door. “No,” I muttered.

“Good night, little spider.”

 _There must be something I can do,_ I thought. I pounded the walls for weak points, I tried blocking the vent through which the smoke was still pouring, but nothing worked. As the cloud grew larger and filled the room, I pressed a cloth to my mouth and breathed through that, but it was futile; I could feel the chemical seeping through the fabric. I collapsed to the floor, dizziness overtaking me. My senses dulled; I couldn’t move. The last thing I remember is the door bursting open and my chance of escaping faded into nothing.

 

 

 

 

After my attempted escape, they really cracked down on security. Now, instead of being tied to a table with leather straps, they used metal cuffs. Not normal metal cuffs, these ones had some kind of spikes along the inside so whenever I moved even a little bit, they would stab into my skin. There were already pools of blood forming at my sides. As if that wasn’t bad enough, they put them on my wrists, ankles and chest like before, but also above my knees, elbows, and neck. They also put the muzzle thing back on and hadn’t taken it off since.

They left me alone in the room I’d started to call “my room” for a long time, I think to punish me for trying to escape. I couldn’t sleep, because I started to nod off once and my head tilted to the side. The spikes sliced open the soft, tender flesh over my throat with a sharp sting. It wasn’t a deep cut, no arteries had been slashed, anyway. But I had a thin stream of blood dripping down my neck onto the table. I was terrified to go to sleep again in case next time it did slice open an artery and I’d bleed out.

So I waited. And waited, and waited, and waited, and—

“Ah, I see you’re awake! Excellent.” It was Dr. O’Connor. I made no sign that I’d heard him, mostly in fear that I would hurt myself.

He stood over me and made a ‘tsk, tsk’ sound upon seeing the blood around my neck. “Oh dear, I see you’ve managed to cut yourself.” As if it had been my fault. “Oh, and your arms, too, and your wrists. My goodness, what are we ever going to do with you?” He put his clipboard on the table beside me. I did my best to glower at him, but I’m not sure how threatening I looked through this damned muzzle.

“I hope you understand that I take no pleasure in this. You know that, don’t you?” He waited like he actually expected me to answer. “It’s just that you _insist_ on disobeying! Every time I think I’ve finally gotten through, you pull something like this. What else was I to do? So you see, you brought this on yourself. I am not responsible, you forced my hand.” It sounded like he actually believed it.

“Speaking of hands,” he chuckled to himself, then meandered off out of my sight. I heard the door open. Close. Footsteps. Hushed, nervous conversation.

“Now, now, don’t be afraid, it is perfectly safe. Come, you see?” Dr. O’Connor reappeared in my field of vision. He patted the cuff around my knee and showed his colleagues. “Reinforced steel with sharpened pins lining the interior. It can’t move without severely maiming itself.”

 _Wait a minute,_ I thought. _Did he just call me “it?”_ I watched the doctors more carefully. They were all examining the restraints, throwing wary glances at me. Did they all think I was an actual spider or something?

“Brilliant,” one of the doctors said. He had been testing the strength of the cuff over my elbow and had moved on to examining the muzzle. “Now we can proceed with the testing without risking our safety!” _What I wouldn’t give to not be wearing this damn muzzle right now,_ I thought. _I’d make him concerned for his safety._

“Precisely! I’m glad you mentioned that, I thought now would be an excellent time to perform our next test.” Dr. O’Connor said

They chattered excitedly and rushed around making preparations. Only being able to move my eyes, I couldn’t see what was about to happen. I felt beads of sweat form on my brow. I racked my brain, trying to remember any hint about what this test could be. Dr. O’Connor had said something about…my healing factor? Yes, he definitely said something about that. And how he wanted to know how it worked with a variety of injuries. Shit.

Dr. O’Connor said, reappearing my side along with a dozen others. None of them were wearing masks or anything, so probably not another operation. I couldn’t say that was exactly a comfort.

“As you know, we’ve been testing this creature’s unique healing processes and have obtained remarkable results!” They all looked excitedly from Dr. O’Connor to me, like I was a particularly interesting science project. He rattled off the experiments they’ve already performed as well as the results they gleaned. I was too nervous to really pay attention. My spider-sense was going off again, making me hyper-aware of every sound, smell, and touch.

“Are we ready to begin?” He asked. The doctors looked eager. It made me sick.

All too soon, they gathered up around one side of the table. A couple of them hauled over a scary-looking contraption and plunked it down on the table, out of my sight. I knew seeing what they were doing probably wouldn’t help; in fact, it would probably make it worse, but my curiosity and anxiety won out. I lifted my head a couple of centimeters off the table, trying to see what the hell was going on while at the same time, being careful not to cut myself.

I was barely able to make out what was happening. The machine was strange, I’d never seem anything like it before. It was composed of two parallel metal pieces joined together at the top by a third piece. It had all sorts of gears and wires attached. The whole thing was about the length of my forearm. The contraption was lowered over my right hand and—

The spikes around my collar pierced my skin, and I was forced to let my head fall back on the table as I waited for them to do who knew what.

There was a loud grinding sound. Two cold, metal pieces clamped down on my hand about two inches apart, preventing me from using the limited movement of which I was capable. There was a tense silence, the machine quieted, then—

If I hadn’t been wearing the muzzle, I would’ve screamed. The best I could figure was some kind of hammer shot out between the two metal pieces holding my hand down. It struck the long, skinny bone on my middle finger between my knuckle and my wrist. It was all I could do to stay still. The shock had caused me to flinch and instinctively move my left hand to my right, shredding the skin on my wrist. It took all my self-control to fight my natural instincts.

“As I expected,” said the doctor operating the contraption. “That amount of force would have broken a human bone, but it’s bones have been strengthened. If my calculations are correct…” There was a click and another burst of noise. The hammer struck the exact same place, and this time I felt the bone crack. I would’ve screamed if I could, I would’ve fought, kicked, and punched, but all I could do was lay there.

The doctors were clapping. I hadn’t noticed before, I was deafened by the pain. “Oh, bravo!” One of them said. What kind of sick people found pleasure in someone else’s torture?

“Again, again!” Shouted someone out of my range of sight. So he did. Again and again, breaking each of my fingers in several different places. After the third break, it became almost unbearable. I couldn’t stop myself from trying to pull my arm away, to make them stop, but all it did was slice the back of my hand into ribbons. I tried not to care; what’s a few cuts compared to this? But struggle as I might, I couldn’t pull my hand free. The pins penetrated my skin so deeply I thought I felt them scrape bone. I gave up, tears dampening my face and blurring my vision.

A sense of hopelessness swept over me, even as the doctors left, having had their fun. I couldn’t escape. I couldn’t lift a finger to protect myself. I couldn’t remember feeling this helpless since I became Spiderman. No one knew where I was, there would be no one to come rescue me. I would be trapped here, surrounded by sadistic doctors who treated me like an animal. Worse than an animal. I thought of my friends, of Aunt May, of Mr. Stark. Would I ever see them again? Were they looking for me? Did they even know I was missing? Did they care? _Of course they do,_ I scolded myself. But I couldn’t stop the thoughts from invading my mind. I fell into a restless sleep, not caring about the needles puncturing my neck, thinking, _Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if I were to die tonight._


	9. Whipping

Chapter 9: Whipping

I don’t own Spiderman or Marvel, however much I wish I did.

You know how sometimes you are having the worst day ever, then you go to sleep and when you wake up things don’t seem nearly so bad, even if your situation hasn’t changed?

Yeah, that’s the exact opposite of what happened to me. When I woke up, I somehow felt worse than I did when I fell asleep. I was sweating and shivering at the same time, which was an odd sensation. Also, I became aware of how hungry I was. I realized I hadn’t really eaten since arriving; I supposed they must have fed me through a feeding tube of some kind or else I’d be dead.

“Dear me, you don’t look so good, do you little spider?” It was Dr. O’Connor again. I let my eyes fall shut. It was difficult to keep them open and he wasn’t worth the effort. I heard him come closer and felt him press a hand to my forehead. He made a ‘tut, tut’ sound and examined the swollen, tender skin under the cuffs. I cracked my eyes open to see if I could figure out what torture he had in store for me next.

“Oh dear,” he repeated, pulling out a small flashlight. He shined it directly into my eyes, catching me by surprise. I blinked, but he held my eye open with his thumb. “Yes, definitely an infection. I’m surprised at you, I didn’t think it was possible for you to get sick.” He said, like it was my fault. He sighed irritably. “Well, I suppose we’ll have to postpone our next round of testing until this gets sorted out. Oh, that reminds me, let’s check on that hand of yours, shall we?”

He practically skipped to my other side and lifted my hand from the table. I moaned in pain and twitched my hand away from him. Undeterred, he simply lifted it again even more firmly, causing another muffled cry of pain.

“You’re not doing nearly as well as I expected. Perhaps your infection is hindering the healing process,” he mused. “Yes, that must be it. Well, we will postpone our next test for this evening, you should be good as new by then, yes?” I doubted that, but he didn’t ask for my opinion before he left me again, telling me to get plenty of rest and ‘For goodness sake, try not to hurt myself any more than I already had.’

 

 

 

 

As promised, he returned several hours later to check my progress.

“Ah yes, you’re doing much better!” He told me.

Bullshit. I felt weaker and dizzier by the second. My eyes were kind of swollen. I couldn’t see straight. There was something wrong with my ears, too, his voice kept fading in and out of focus. Every place my skin had been cut by the cuffs was tender and throbbing.

The lights on the ceiling were moving. No, that couldn’t be right. _I_ was moving; the table being pushed down the long hall into a room I couldn’t remember ever being in.

There were muffled noises all around me. I let my eyes slip shut, to weary to keep them open. The noise stopped, like they were waiting for something. Then someone struck me across the face, unnecessarily hard. I pried my eyes open.

“I said, _isn’t that right?_ ” He repeated. I didn’t even know what he was asking. He seemed to take my silence as agreement, because he nodded at a couple of security guards, who approached warily. There was a clanging, metal clinking against metal, and the cuffs around my wrists were unlocked. I grimaced as the spiked pulled at my skin, like they wanted to stay securely embedded in my flesh. They were lifted away, finally, only to be replaced by a set of iron shackles. The same thing happened with my ankles. In the brief moment my hands were free, the thought of escape never crossed my mind. For one thing, I was still secured by the other metal bands slicing up my skin, and for another, I was too tired to do anything other than lay there.

Shortly after, I realized the other cuffs were being unlocked and I was released from that particular torture. My relief was quickly transformed into dread, however, when one of the guards gave my shackles a tug. I hadn’t even realized there was a chain attached until that moment.

“Get up,” the other one hissed, taking my shoulder and forcing me to sit up. The moment I was upright, however, a wave of nausea swept over me and I collapsed to my knees, vision swirling unpleasantly.

“What’s wrong with it?” Someone asked. I was too exhausted to even come up with a witty response.

“Come, come, now, get up. You’re fine.” Dr. O’Connor said irritably, gripping my elbow and hoisting me to my feet. “Could one of you gentleman assist me for a moment?”

Someone else came and took my other elbow and the two of them helped me stumble over to the far wall. The short length of chain connecting my feet scraped against the floor.

“What’s going on?” I tried to ask, but it came out as a muffled noise because of the muzzle. The wall was blank, and there were no tools or supplies or anything other than a short ladder. Only when we got closer did I see a thick ring attached to the wall about nine or ten feet above the ground. The guard walking in front of us took the chain and threaded it through the ring. Stepping down from the ladder, he took a few steps back along with the other guard and Dr. O’Connor. The chain was pulled through the ring until I was forced to stretch my arms high above my head. He kept pulling even when I was sure I couldn’t be stretched any more. The shackled burned against my damaged wrists. He then secured the end of the chain to a bolt in the floor, giving it a final yank before deeming it satisfactory. Someone else approached slowly and cautiously to secure the chains around my ankles to the floor.

“Excellent! I shall fetch Dr. Oberon, tell him we’re ready.” Dr. O’Connor scurried out of the room, leaving me alone with the security guards. I wondered, briefly, if I could possibly fight my way out of this predicament, but I was severely underfed and weak. I wasn’t even sure I could stay standing on my own. Plus, I didn’t like the look of those guns attached to their belts. No, if I was going to try and escape again, it would be when I stood a fighting chance. This was not the moment, I had to bide my time.

After a few awkward moments of silence, a stream of doctors came flooding into the room, looking excited, like they were about to see a show.

“Quiet down, please!” Dr. O’Connor said. They complied. My spider sense started acting up, elevating my heart rate and making me feel more awake. “Now, I’ve already explained to you what we’re doing here and what we hope to learn from this test, so I won’t waste any more time. Dr. Oberon!”

A younger man stepped up, probably in his early thirties. He was holding something in his hand, something that made my stomach drop to the floor. I tried to cry out, to free myself, _anything,_ but it made no difference. Dr. Oberon simply unwound the whip and flicked it experimentally. _Crack!_

“I’m gonna need you to turn around, little guy,” he said encouragingly, as if his pleasant tone might make me cooperate. When I didn’t respond, he turned to Dr. O’Connor and muttered, “It does understand what I’m saying, right?”

“Yes, yes, it’s just being stubborn.” He replied reproachfully.

He shrugged. “Ah, well, I guess it doesn’t matter either way.” He reared back. Eyes widening, I whirled around just in the nick of time.

_Crack!_ The whip struck me from my neck down to my shoulder. The pain took a second to really hit, but when it did…it made me long for the bone-breaking device.

_Crack!_ He struck me again before I had time to prepare. The doctors were talking amongst themselves, taking notes and discussing the happenings.

I started keeping a mental count against my will. _Crack!_ Seven. _Crack!_ Twelve. _Crack! Crack! Crack!_ Again and again until _Crack!_ Twenty-five.

My knees gave out. My toes barely scraped the floor. I didn’t even care that the chain was pulling against my broken hand, tearing at the already fragile skin on my wrist. That pain was nothing compared to the pain on my back. I couldn’t tell if I was bleeding, I had gone numb.

Dr. O’Connor was speaking; I couldn’t hear what he said. All I knew was a few minutes later, everyone had gone again, leaving me there, struggling to stay alive.


	10. Escape

Chapter 10: Escape

I don’t own Spiderman or Marvel, however much I wish I did.

Dr. O’Connor’s POV

“I just don’t understand,” I told the spider. It was six hours after the whipping, and its skin was still not healed. Its temperature had risen alarmingly, its wrists and ankles were still swollen and bruised and cut, and its hand had refused to heal itself. Also, if I wasn’t mistaken, its wrists seemed to be infected. None of this was supposed to happen! I had done extensive research, pawing through every snippet of information I could find regarding ‘Spiderman.’ Every injury it has ever sustained had healed completely in a matter of days, if not hours. Why, then, was it not healing now?

“Why aren’t you healing?” I asked my little spider. No response. It was struggling to stay awake; the chains were pulled so tight its feet barely touched the floor. It had to remain standing because if it didn’t, the pull on its arms would cut off its airflow.

I shook my head sympathetically. “I know you must be in dreadful pain right now,” I said, brushing a stray lock of hair from its eye. “You broke my trust by trying to run. How can I let you down now, hmm? How do I know you won’t try to run again?”

It fixed its bloodshot eyes on me. Then it lashed out so unexpectedly I jumped back in surprise. If it hadn’t been for the chains, it surely would’ve clawed my throat out.

I wagged my finger at it. “None of that, now. I will not tolerate any more bad behavior from you.” I sighed and slipped my pen back in my chest pocket. “I will be back in a few hours. And by that time, I expect to see _significant_ improvement, understand?”

Without waiting for an answer, not that it could talk anyway, I turned and marched out, flipping off the light as I passed. Just as I went through the doorway, I thought I heard something, like hushed voices or a footstep or something. I squinted into the hall, but there was nothing. I shook my head. I was exhausted, it was probably just my imagination.

 

 

 

 

Peter’s POV

 _Breathe._ I told myself. I sucked in a labored breath and forced it back out. _Breathe. In and out, just breathe._ I had been chained up here for hours now. This, though it was a tough call, was worse than being bound to the table. At least there I wasn’t afraid of suffocating on top of the injuries and infection and whatnot. I could only stand on my tiptoes, and after every hour, my legs got weaker and weaker. My calves were shaking so bad I knew I wouldn’t be able to stand much longer. But the alternative was letting myself go limp, which not only made it impossible to breathe, also sent searing pain through my broken hand which, from the looks of it, hadn’t even begun to heal. So there was no choice but to stick it out and hope someone would let me down soon.

My eyes were swollen and half-closed, my wrists burned, and my back throbbed. Soon, though, I could think of nothing else other than breathing. I was getting more desperate by the second. It was only a matter of time before I ran out of strength and then…

“Oh my— _Peter!_ ” Came a familiar, petrified voice from the doorway. Eyes widening, I whirled around so fast I almost gave myself whiplash.

 _That’s…that’s not possible,_ I thought to myself. But there he was, a lone figure framed by the light from the hallway, the person I had least expected to see down here.

“Here! He’s here, I found him!” He called to someone in the hall before hurrying in.

“Ned!” I said. Or tried to. I was really sick of this stupid muzzle.

“Where? Is he okay?” Came another familiar voice, along with two pairs of footsteps. Two more figures appeared in the doorway. First was Mr. Stark, brandishing a small handgun and checking the room for threats. Second was Michelle, who locked eyes with me and was at my side in a matter of seconds.

“Oh my God, Peter! Are you okay?” She asked, eyes full of concern. I stared from her to Ned to Mr. Stark while my brain caught up with my eyes.

I nodded my head quickly, just realizing she had asked a question. Her fingers flitted around, trying to be helpful but not sure what to do. She reached around the back of my head and grasped the strap of the muzzle, pulling it over my head.

“Thank you,” I gasped, legs threatening to give out. “That thing was…really annoying. Um, I can’t really breathe right now…could…” My vision was blurry. I could feel myself start to black out.

“Mr. Stark he can’t breathe!” Ned said frantically. He followed the chain with his gaze, reaching up and giving it a tug like that might loosen it. All it managed to do was pull on my injured hand, making me gasp in pain.

“Stand back, kid!” Mr. Stark said. It was strange hearing him refer to someone else as ‘kid,’ that’s what he usually called me. He called up the repulsor beam on his right hand and took aim at a random point on the chain.

“Wait—” I started, but too late. A flash of light, a burst of noise, and the chain broke. I collapsed to the ground, legs unable to keep me up any longer. The chain was pulled through the ring on the wall with a horrible scraping sound. I was worried the noise might attract attention, but the second I hit the ground, the thought flew out of my head.

I writhed on the floor, a weird mix of coughing, gasping for breath, and screaming in pain. I had landed on my back, completely forgetting about the scourges.

“What’s wrong?” Michelle cried, falling to her knees beside me. Her hands hovered over me helplessly. Mr. Stark knelt next to her, looking at a loss.

“Ned, hit the lights, will you? I can’t see a thing.” Ned scurried off to find the light switch. “Peter, I need you to listen. Where does it hurt?”

“I…it’s—" The lights flicked on, and I didn’t have to answer. My mangled, bloody form was there for them all to see. I watched them take in my pale, bruised face and raised scars on my chest and abdomen along with the burns on my arm. I felt strangely exposed in only my boxer shorts. I didn’t want Iron man seeing me so helpless, I didn’t want my best friend seeing me suffer, I didn’t want Michelle seeing me so weak.

“Sorry,” I said, trying to smother the look of agony on my face. I coughed again and tried to sit up so I wouldn’t look quite so pathetic. The chains made a grating noise as I moved.

“ _You’re_ sorry?” Mr. Stark said incredulously. I glanced up. I had never seen him so furious. “Dr. O’Connor is the one who’s gonna be sorry. What the hell did he do to you?”

My brain took a second to catch up. “Wait…how’d you know about Dr. O’Connor?”

“We tracked him down, blah blah blah, doesn’t matter,” Michelle interrupted dismissively. “The real question is _are you okay?_ ” Her voice was higher than normal. I locked eyes with her, and I was surprised to see tears in her eyes. My throat closed up for a second; she never cried. Was she really that worried about me?

I gripped her hand with my good one. Two things I’d learned about Michelle: she only appreciated physical contact from those close to her, and she valued honesty. “I will be,” I said sincerely.

She studied my face and nodded slowly. She broke eye contact and studied our intertwined hands. Her expression quickly turned to horror, though, as she laid eyes on my swollen wrist.

“Mr. Stark, can you get these off?” She said, voice shaking.

He had to use a laser protruding from his arm piece, which I would’ve found a lot cooler if I hadn’t been so drained. He also melted the shackles around my ankles.

“Thank you,” I said, breathing a sigh of relief. Things were starting to look up—Iron Man was here, my two best friends were here. We were going to be okay, we were going to get out of there, we—

My thoughts vanished and were replaced by despair at the sound of walkie-talkie static. “Sir, we’ve got a problem, it’s escaped! There are three—”

Mr. Stark shot him with his repulsor beam, but the damage was done. Soon, the lab would be overrun with doctors and security guards. I wasn’t so much worried about them, we had Iron Man after all, but of that damn chemical they’d used to knock me out. If it could knock me out, who knew what it could do to them. Then we’d all be in major trouble.

All these thoughts crossed my mind in a matter of seconds. I met Mr. Stark’s eyes. I shook my head.

That was all it took. “Alright, you help Peter,” he told Michelle. “I’ll go ahead and make sure the way’s clear. We have to get out of here now, but we gotta move quickly and quietly.”

“What about me?” Ned asked.

“You ever shot a gun before?”

While Ned got a crash course on how to shoot a gun, Michelle helped me to my feet. My legs were still wobbly, but I could stand even without her supporting me. After a few shaky steps, Michelle went to put her arm around my waist and caught sight of the lashes. She gasped, but I cut her off with a pointed look. Now wasn’t the time to think about that.

She closed her mouth and nodded resolutely. She instead settled her hand on my hip, careful not to touch any of the lashes. We made our way down the hall, Mr. Stark in front, then Michelle and I, then Ned in the back. He was holding the gun awkwardly, clearly not really sure what he was doing. No one in their right mind would give Ned a gun; he was more likely to shoot himself in the foot or something, but hey, desperate times call for desperate measures.

Our progress was slow. Well, _my_ progress was. I knew I was slowing them down, but I was moving as fast as I was capable. Every once in a while, Mr. Stark would turn around and nod at me as if to make sure I was still there. I would nod back and hope he didn’t notice my sweaty forehead and shaking hands. There was a subtle ringing in my ears like you get when you’re about to pass out. _Please, please don’t pass out,_ I begged. _Almost home free, just got to make it a little longer._

We hadn’t made it 50 feet when we heard the first sign of activity. Footsteps, a lot of them, coming from several directions.

“In here!” Mr. Stark said, opening the closest door. He looked around quickly to make sure it was empty.

We all slipped inside and closed the door right before the footsteps came pounding down the hall where we had been standing a moment before.

“Close one,” Ned breathed.

“We need to keep moving,” Mr. Stark surveyed me, forehead creased. “How you holding up, kid?”

I gave a shaky thumbs-up. Michelle held me more firmly. “Just a little longer, okay?” She said quietly as we made our way back down the hall. I could feel Ned watching me too. Their concern was almost palpable.

I tried to smile, but it probably looked more like a grimace. The pain was threatening to take over again. But I pushed it aside best I could.

Instead of focusing on the pain, I counted my steps. It was rhythmic and soothing to my addled mind.

“Stop,” I said quietly a little while later. We were passing through a hallway that looked exactly like every other one we’d gone through. My spider-sense had started tingling again, and though I wasn’t quite sure why, I’d learned to trust it. Mr. Stark hadn’t heard me speak, but Michelle and Ned did. They froze mid step. “Mr. Stark! Stop!” I hissed.

He did. There were no doors around. I gestured madly for everyone to press themselves against the wall.

A moment of tense silence. I could barely make out the sound of someone speaking in hushed tones. I recognized the voice: Dr. O’Connor. I pulled Michelle closer to me. There was no way in hell I’d let anything happen to her.

Ned stared at me in confusion. “What’s—”

“ _Shh!_ ” I interrupted. Mere seconds later, Dr. O’Connor and two others hurried down the hall we were about to step into. All three of them were armed and held gas masks loosely by their sides. Not a good sign.

Their footsteps faded along with their voices. I let my head fall against the wall. The sudden rush of adrenaline had gone, leaving me weak and shaky again.

“Are they gone?” Ned whispered.

I nodded, eyes shut, trying to summon up a little energy. I just wanted to get out of here. To be back home, happy and healthy. To see Aunt May again. To patrol as Spiderman. Hell, I’d even prefer to see Flash again if that meant getting out of here.

“Nice job, Pete,” Mr. Stark said. He sounded almost impressed. Normally, this kind of comment would make me irrationally proud, but not that time. I scarcely had the energy to stand.

Michelle gripped me tighter. “Peter?” She asked hesitantly. For her sake, I opened my eyes and tried to look a little less hopeless than I felt.

We continued down the hall which bent this way and that, branching off here and there. Mr. Stark led us confidently, never once having to double back or retrace his steps. Finally, we reached a big set of double doors. He pushed them open to display a huge stairwell. I couldn’t see how high up it went. I gazed upward warily; I honestly wasn’t sure I’d be able to make it. But I had to try.

We started the climb. With each flight, I leaned a little more heavily on Michelle who held me more firmly and didn’t say a word in protest. I felt bad making here do so much work, but I simply couldn’t do it on my own.

We had just stepped onto the fifth flight when we heard it. Voices coming from below us.

I met Mr. Stark’s gaze just before the doors burst open and a dozen men and women surged through. They were armed, but they weren’t shooting at us which I thought was odd until I noticed they were all wearing those gas masks.

“Oh, no,” I said. I recognized Dr. O’Connor at the front of the pack, brandishing a canister about the length of his forearm. Even through the mask, I could guess he was grinning maliciously.

“What is it?” Ned asked fearfully.

Dr. O’Connor made to open the canister and I had a sneaking suspicion of what was inside.

“Run,” I muttered but we all stayed frozen in place, staring at him. He pulled the pin from the canister and it immediately started hissing and leaking a cloud of white smoke. “Run!” I yelled.

There were only two and a half flights to go. The cloud was rising, it had completely covered Dr. O’Connor and his team from sight, though we could hear them climbing the stairs.

One and a half flights left. The smoke was rising faster; the stairwell was half full.

“C’mon kid, just a little farther,” Mr. Stark encouraged. I barely heard him, I was too busy trying to remember to breathe.

One flight left. The smoke was ten feet below us.

We reached the top at last. My heart was pounding, my breaths uneven and labored. Mr. Stark threw himself against the door, but they were locked. The smoke was collecting around our feet.

“Stand back!” Mr. Stark called up his repulsors.

“Hold your breath!” I shouted as the cloud reached our knees. The familiar screech of the repulsor. The cloud was up to our necks. A beam of light, a loud bang—

And we burst through the doors just in time. Ned slammed them shut behind him, and Mr. Stark melted the handle into a red-hot, sizzling lump of metal. The doctors’ frustrated noises were muffled.

I collapsed to my knees from the adrenaline rush combined with the overwhelming sense of relief of being outside. There were so many sounds, so many colors, so much light. It was a little too much for me to handle.

“Peter!” Michelle cried as I went down.

“You alright, kid?” Mr. Stark asked worriedly. He knelt in front of me, forcing me to meet his gaze. After I caught my breath, I nodded shakily at him to let him know I was okay.

“Uh…Mr. Stark?” Ned said, voice quivering. We all listened. There was a _bang, bang, BANG!_ from the other side of the door. I almost sobbed—we weren’t free yet.

“Damn, they’re persistent,” Mr. Stark said, worry leaking through his attempted lightness. “We need to leave _now._ The Quinjet’s not far, maybe a hundred yards out.” He jerked his chin, indicating the direction the jet was in. Can you make it that far?”

I forced myself to nod, even though I wasn’t sure I could. I was barefoot, for one thing, and there was nothing around us but woods and the remnants of an abandoned building. Piles of broken concrete, warped support beams, and chunks of jagged stone surrounded us. You never would have guessed it was the cover for some sketchy underground lab.

Despite my uncertainly, I rose to my feet with Michelle’s help. The banging was getting louder; the door shook in its’ frame. I noticed Michelle’s heavy breathing, so I did my best to walk on my own, but it was no good. The fever seemed to be taking over again, sending waves of dizziness that made the world tilt and the ground shift beneath my feet.

Then, with an almighty _CRASH,_ the door burst open. It thudded to the ground, stirring up an almost theatric cloud of dust through which the doctors emerged, still wearing the gas masks.

My breath quickened, as did my pace. We were only twenty feet apart, if that. Mr. Stark and Ned were leading the way, urging us forward as we made our way through the gravel and stone.

“Take cover!” Mr. Stark warned us, his Iron Man helmet dropping over his face. I barely heard him over the ringing in my ears, but Michelle pushed me down as Mr. Stark took flight. He zoomed over our heads, shooting a few well-placed missiles at the doorway. Luckily, the doctors hadn’t been able to get far, so they were mostly still gathered in the same general area. Mr. Stark was able to bomb the whole area, shrouding them in smoke. It was impossible to tell if anyone survived.

He landed, and his helmet lifted. “We need to go,” he said as if nothing had happened. He was eying the door warily. “There could be more coming.”

“Are you kidding?” Ned said in awe. “An explosion like that…they’d be crazy to come after us!”

I opted not to mention that they very likely _were_ crazy, considering everything that I’d seen down there.

My breath hitched once the immediate danger passed and I was no longer distracted from the pain. Try as I might to hide it, Mr. Stark noticed.

“Let’s go,” he said promptly, heading into the woods.

Every step was torture. The stone and gravel bit into my bare feet. Somewhere along the way, I tasted blood in my mouth. It took me a second to realize it was from biting my lip so hard. Ned suggested Mr. Stark let me use his Iron Man suit and simply fly to the jet, but we agreed it would be too risky with my wounds. It might do more harm than good. So we trudged on.

“It’s just up here,” Mr. Stark said after what felt like hours. “A little further.”

I nodded shakily. As promised, I saw the wing of the Quinjet peeking through the trees. It was well hidden; no one could have accidentally stumbled upon it back here. The sound of the door grinding open was like music to my ears. It was so close now I could see individual rivets in the side. The interior was dark, but at Mr. Stark’s command, the lights flashed on.

The ramp was five feet away. Mr. Stark and Ned were already in, ushering me and Michelle inside. The closer we got to the jet, the more my senses dulled, like now that we were out of danger, I could finally relax. Everything around me was a confusing blur of color and sound. I couldn’t really make sense of much of it.

Of course, I should have been expecting it. Just my luck that the second I let my guard down, danger comes rushing back to greet me. My spider sense flared right when I was about to step onto the ramp. I didn’t have the time or energy to question the feeling, I just knew I had to act fast. I shoved Michelle to the side, where she fell with a startled cry.

There was a loud _Bang!_ A silence. Mr. Stark’s reactor firing into the woods. Ned and Michelle screaming. And me, watching, almost fascinated, at the blood pouring out of the bullet wound in my abdomen.

There was a moment of peaceful clarity—a gentle breeze ruffled my hair, birds chirped in the distance, the trees were vibrant and green—before I fell into unconsciousness.


	11. Recovery

Chapter 11: Recovery

Disclaimer: I don’t own Spiderman or Marvel, however much I wish I did

I woke up some time later—not sure exactly how long—in a spacious, brightly lit room. I was laying on an impossibly soft surface, and a blanket was thrown over me. Once the initial grogginess faded, I was able to make out finer details. Like the bandages wrapped around almost every bit of exposed skin, and the fact that I seemed to be in a hospital room. There were a couple of people in the corner, speaking in hushed tones.

“—keeps insisting I go home, but…” It was a girl’s voice. It took me a second to place it. Michelle. She was wringing her hands anxiously, like she did when she was nervous.

“I know,” said a miserable voice. This one was also familiar. It was…Ned. Yes, that’s right. Ned was there too. He was facing away from me, but I could see the dejected slump of his shoulders, the discouraged tone of his voice. He continued, “I don’t want to go either, but how much longer can we keep this up? My parents are starting to get suspicious.”

Michelle pinched the bridge of her nose. I wasn’t used to seeing Michelle so upset; she was usually kind of distant, like she didn’t really care about anything. The only times she expressed herself was in moments of extreme emotion; like a few years ago when she told me—or Spiderman, whatever—that her friends were trapped in the elevator that was in danger of falling down the Washington monument.

I opened my mouth to speak, but no sound came out, just a fit of coughing. I guess my throat was sore from disuse. But it did the job; Ned and Michelle spun around in alarm, relief spreading across their features.

“Peter!” Ned said, hurrying over and giving me an awkward side hug, careful not to disturb any of the bandages. “We were starting to think you’d _never_ wake up!”

“Sorry to disappoint,” I wheezed, voice horribly raspy. I grinned crookedly at him, and he beamed back at me. I shifted my gaze to Michelle, who looked equally relieved. Though she was smiling, I thought I saw a hint of apprehension in her eyes.

My smile fizzled out. Oh God, she knew about me. She must. She knew about Spiderman. What must she be thinking? No doubt she was freaked out or unsettled at the very least. What if she didn’t want to be my friend anymore? Or worse, what if she despised me? I couldn’t say I’d blame her if she did. It was amazing enough that Ned still wanted to be my friend, even though he had seen just how dangerous I was, but how could I expect the same of Michelle?

“I…” Michelle started, but her voice caught. She tried again. “I should tell your aunt and Mr. Stark. They’re resting right now, but they’ll both want to know you’re awake.”

“Good idea,” Ned said. She was gone before he even finished his sentence.

“So, how do you feel?” He asked, oblivious to the awkwardness.

“Hmm? Oh,” I cleared my throat. “Fine. What about you, what’s been goin’ on?”

“Oh, man, you should’ve been here—well, I guess you kind of were, but you know what I mean.”

He proceeded to tell me the exact details of what happened since arriving here. Apparently, I was in Avengers Headquarters. I’d been here plenty of times and never realized we had a full-fledged hospital wing. I’d only been as far as the med bay, like a scaled down version of this for dealing with minor injuries. While waiting for me to recover, Michelle and Ned and Aunt May had gotten to see quite a bit of Headquarters. Ned spent a good few minutes describing the training rooms, which of course I’d been in before, but I didn’t say anything, It was nice to hear him talk so excitedly. Apparently, he and the others had refused to go home until they made sure I was going to be alright, so Mr. Stark had given them each a room to stay in. I was so completely humbled when I heard that. It sounded like they’d been waiting around for at least a few days, no doubt bored out of their minds, all for me.

“And once, I swear I saw—”

“Peter!” Came a voice from the door. It was Aunt May. She looked out of breath, like she’d run up several flights of stairs, which she very well might have. She was holding a coffee cup which had spilled its’ contents over her fingers and was now dripping on the floor, but she didn’t seem to notice. Her eyes fixed on me and, after a moment, unfroze and tackled me with a hug. I tried not to gasp when she accidentally bumped my chest with her elbow. But, knowing it would upset her to say anything, I bit my lip, blinked tears from my eyes, and hugged her back.

“Hi Aunt May,” I said. She pulled away and cupped my face in her hands. She smelled like coffee and cinnamon, like she always did. It was such a familiar and comforting scent, I almost started to cry. But thankfully, I was spared from a potentially embarrassing moment when Mr. Stark entered with Michelle not far behind.

“Kid!” He said. He looked, and I mean this in the nicest way possible, like a disaster. His hair was a tangled, unruly mess. His goatee, which was usually neatly trimmed, was overgrown. Even his shirt was untucked, which was not like him. But he was smiling so hugely I barely noticed the other things.

Aunt May shifted closer so Mr. Stark could come closer. He clapped me on the shoulder, carefully avoiding any injuries. “How ya feelin’ kid? You gave us quite a scare back there.”

Though he said it jokingly, I thought I heard genuine concern underneath. Was Mr. Stark worried about me?

“‘m fine, thanks,” I said, not entirely truthfully. A dull throb was taking over, slowly consuming my thoughts, making the pain all I could think about.

Mr. Stark surveyed me skeptically. “I’m going to call a doctor in anyway.”

While he was out, Aunt May filled the gap he left and smothered me with hugs, ran her fingers through my hair, and generally tried not to fall to pieces. While it was embarrassing, especially in front of my friends, I didn’t stop her. Maybe I felt bad that she was so worried, and putting up with this was my way of apologizing? Anyway, I was grateful when Mr. Stark returned with the doctor (Dr. Henley) and pulled Aunt May aside to talk along with Mr. Stark.

“Hello there, Mr. Parker,” Dr. Henley said brightly. He looked rather old and grumpy, so I was surprised to hear him sounding so chipper. “I’ll be with you in just a moment.”

I tried to say something, anything, but my throat closed up as soon as I saw his lab coat. It was so similar to the one worn by…

Almost against my will, my hands fisted in the blanket. I couldn’t stop the flood of memories as they came rushing back, try as I might. Suddenly, I wasn’t in Avengers Headquarters. I was back in the lab with Dr. O’Connor. He and his fellow scientists were there, closing in around me. They were going to perform another test, which no doubt meant more pain and torture for me.

Michelle must have noticed something was wrong. “Peter?” She said worriedly. “What’s wrong?”

I couldn’t speak. The memory was too strong, it was threatening to take over completely.

Michelle followed my gaze to Dr. Henley and somehow, she must’ve put the pieces together.

“What’s going on?” Ned asked confusedly.

“Uh, Dr. Henley!” Michelle said, and firmly but not unkindly, she relayed the situation to him. I didn’t hear her exact words; black spots had exploded in my vision and a ringing filled my ears. I crushed my eyes shut.

“Peter?” The voice was muffled. A hand landed on my wrist lightly. Only then did I realize I had inadvertently pressed my palms to my ears, I guess to try and block out the memory.

I pried my eyes open and lowered my hands. Michelle was there, standing over me. Her eyes were full of concern.

“Are you…is that better?” She asked, gesturing behind her. I followed the motion to Dr. Henley, who had mercifully removed the lab coat and balled it up in the corner. Everyone was staring at me.

Heat rushed to my face, but I managed a nod. “Yes. I’m sorry, I don’t know why I freaked out like that…”

“Hey, hey, don’t do that,” Mr. Stark chastised. “Don’t apologize. It’s alright.”

“Actually, why don’t we give Mr. Parker here some space? I just have to do a quick checkup, then he should be getting some rest.” Dr. Henley said, ushering them out.

I was seized by inexplicable panic. It’s not that I didn’t trust Dr. Henley; he seemed perfectly nice, but I just couldn’t bear to be left alone.

Michelle, Aunt May, and Ned were already out the door, but Mr. Stark seemed to be lingering.

“Wait!” I cried right before he could leave. Bothe he and the doctor looked over, seeming to notice for the first time how fast my heartbeat had become indicated by the monitor near my head. I bit my lip, heat rushing to my face again. I tried to calm down before speaking again.

“Um…could you…would you mind…?”

“Of course,” Mr. Stark said, sliding past Dr. Henley and pulling up a chair.

“That is, if you don’t mind, doctor.” He sat down, making it clear that he wasn’t really asking.

“Oh, er…no, I suppose that’s fine.” He said, flustered. He hurried over to do the checkup.

Mr. Stark talked to me the whole time. Every time I thought I might have another ‘episode,’ Mr. Stark was there, distracting me with his words. He didn’t talk about anything important, and nothing about Dr. O’Connor or the lab, for which I was grateful, but mostly about silly little things, like how Ned had completely geeked out when he was shown around Headquarters, and songs he’d heard recently he thought I’d like. I didn’t speak, and he didn’t expect me to. I was content to just listen to his familiar voice.

“Alright, Mr. Parker, just one last thing, I’m going to replace some of these bandages, alright?” Dr. Henley said upon finishing the checkup.

He had me sit up a little so he could unwind the gauze around my chest and abdomen. I couldn’t remember where this particular injury had come from. It was near the bottom of my ribcage, and it was horribly sore, so I figured I must’ve broken a rib or something. So I was not prepared when the last layer of gauze was peeled away to reveal a huge, gaping hole torn through my chest. It was awful; the skin around it was swollen and red, and wound itself was bloody and gruesome—

“Hey, kid, look at me,” Mr. Stark gently turned my head to face him. I found it difficult to turn away, however much I wanted to. He started talking again, which helped distract me, but I couldn’t ignore it completely.

“I think that about does it!” Dr. Henley said, removing his gloves and tossing them into a sanitary bin. “Someone will be by in a few hours to check in. In the meantime, you should get some rest. Do you need anything else?”

“No,” I said weakly.

He nodded and left the room, taking the used bandages with him.

I rested against the stack of pillows and closed my eyes tight, but I was stiff as a board. No way I’d ever get to sleep like this—not when the image of the bloody wound still burned in my eyes. I was acutely aware of it, there at the bottom of my ribcage hidden beneath layers of gauze. What had caused that? A knife? I didn’t remember Dr. O’Connor stabbing me…unless it was from the operation on the first day? That seemed unlikely. Maybe it was a burn, and I just hadn’t gotten a good enough look. Or maybe…

“It was a gunshot,” Mr. Stark said, shaking me from my thoughts.

“What?” I asked, turning my head.

“A gunshot,” he repeated. His elbows were balanced on his knees, hands twisting together in anxiety. “Do you remember?”

I said nothing. He took it as a sign to continue. “When we found you, you were chained to a wall. There were whip marks all over, your wrists were dislocated and bleeding, you couldn’t breathe, we didn’t know how long you’d been there—”

“I remember,” I cut in, more for his sake than mine. He sounded so anguished I couldn’t stand it.

The troubled expression on his face cleared a little. “Right, well, we escaped the lab, finally, and walked through the woods to the Quinjet,” he studied my expression for any sign of recognition.

“That sounds…kind of familiar,” I said, deep in thought. “Didn’t you blow up the exit?”

He smiled fleetingly, but it was quickly replaced by guilt. He dropped his gaze and continued. “Yeah, that’s right. But I guess we were all so preoccupied that we didn’t notice someone had survived the blast. We didn’t realize we were being followed. We had barely reached the Quinjet when…” He let out a deep sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You pushed Michelle out of the way just when the shot went off. You saved her. But the bullet hit you not two inches left of your spine. You almost _died,_ kid.”

The brokenness of his voice was off-putting. Mr. Stark wasn’t like this. He was confident, borderline cocky. Brave, loyal, courageous—that was the Mr. Stark I knew. This man in front of me was completely different. This man was guilt-ridden, sorrowful, vulnerable. I didn’t know what to make of it.

When he spoke again, he was so quiet I had to strain my ears to hear him. “I don’t know, kid, just seeing you there, bleeding, dying, it scared me more than I’ve ever been before. And I…I’m sorry this whole thing ever happened.” The last part was almost a whisper.

“No, Mr. Stark,” I assured him. “It’s not your fault, I should’ve been more careful, it wasn’t your fault he—”

“That’s not what I meant.” He let out a defeated sigh. “I’m sorry I recruited you in the first place, way back when. Getting you caught in the middle of the whole fallout with Cap…it was a mistake on my part, and I’m sorry.”

It took me a minute to process his words. He regretted recruiting me? Did he wish he’d never met me? Did he think I was a nuisance, some kid whose ass he had to save? Come to think of it, I _had_ gotten him into a lot of trouble. He’s had to rescue me from drowning, I destroyed his airplane, he’s had to repair my suit countless times, not to mention the earful he got from Aunt May when she found out about Spiderman and Tony’s involvement.

“Do you really wish we’d never met?” I forced the words out, even though my mouth felt like it was filled with glue.

He looked up, alarmed. “Oh, kid, no! That’s not what I mean at all. It’s just…right before you went into surgery and I saw you there, you were dying right before my eyes and I kept thinking that maybe I could have prevented that. If I hadn’t gotten involved, maybe you’d be safe. Happy.”

I considered his words before speaking. “Maybe. Maybe I would be safer, maybe this wouldn’t have happened. But…maybe I would already be dead right now, because you’ve saved my life a million times. And we probably wouldn’t even know each other which, for me, at least, is more important than what might have been.” Wow, when did I get so deep and profound?

He seemed taken aback, but also humbled. Apparently, neither one of us knew what to say next, so he just ruffled my hair and went to turn out the light.

“Get some sleep, Peter.”


	12. The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did some rewriting, so it's a bit longer than I originally thought, hope that's okay! :) Enjoy!

Chapter 12: The End

Disclaimer: I don’t own Spiderman or Marvel, however much I wish I did

“Alright, just take it easy for a while, but other than that you’re good to go!” Said Dr. Henley.

It had been a couple of weeks since I woke up in the hospital. I felt fine after only a few days, but everyone insisted I stay ‘just to be sure.’ While I appreciated their concern, but I was so bored I was starting to go crazy. Though it did help when Ned and Michelle would visit; they’d bring games and movies, or we’d just hang out. Michelle never came by herself, though, so we never got a chance to talk about…everything. She always brought Ned or Mr. Stark with her. I tried to tell myself it was just a coincidence, but I knew she was avoiding the conversation. The conversation which I thought was inevitable but seemed less and less likely with each passing day.

“Thanks, Dr. Henley,” I said.

He took on a falsely stern tone. He wagged his finger at me. “Now, as much as I enjoy your company, young man, I don’t want to see you in here for a long long time, you hear?”

I gave him a sideways smile. “You got it.”

“Good.” He gathered up his things to leave. “I’ll give you a moment to change, then Mr. Stark said he would like to see you before you go.”

“Oh?”

“He said he’ll be in his office. I’ll let him know you’ll stop by shortly.”

He left, closing the door behind him so I could change. It felt so good to be in regular clothes again. While I changed, I wondered what Mr. Stark could want. Probably just to say goodbye or to be careful or something. Surely nothing serious.

“Oh, hey guys,” I said, emerging from the room to come face to face with Ned and Michelle. It looked like I’d interrupted them mid-conversation. They looked uncomfortable. “Er, what’s wrong?

Ned shuffled and hesitated before hurrying to answer. “Nothing!” He said, smiled a fake smile.

He was obviously lying. He was sweating and fidgeting and had said very little, which wasn’t like him. I turned my gaze to Michelle, but she avoided my eyes.

“Okay, seriously, what’s going on? You guys okay?”

They exchanged glances. I didn’t break the silence, choosing instead to let it build so someone would have to speak eventually.

Finally, Michelle spoke. “Well, we got some news just now that, um…” She looked at a loss. “I think it’d be better if Mr. Stark filled you in on the rest.”

 _The rest?_ I thought. _I don’t even know what this is!_

But I didn’t say that. I just said ‘Okay,’ and let them lead me down the hall to Mr. Stark’s office. I wondered if this was what he had wanted to talk to me about or if it was something else entirely.

We didn’t speak on the way there until Michelle held the door open. “Thanks,” I said, and slipped into the office. I was relieved when Ned and Michele followed me inside; I felt better with them around.

Mr. Stark was by the window, staring at an image on a screen and frowning deeply. His finger tapped thoughtfully against his chin. He was so lost in thought he didn’t hear us come in, so I cleared my throat to get his attention.

He looked up with a start and hurriedly shut off the screens. I only caught a glimpse before they cleared; something about a ruined building? I couldn’t tell exactly.

“Hey, Pete,” he said smoothly and took a seat behind the desk. His desk was really cool; all sorts of screens and holographic images that could be called up with a simple voice command and shut down with a flick of the wrist.

“Hey, Mr. Stark,” I sat in one of the three chairs situated in front of the desk. Michelle and Ned sat down either side of me.

“Feelin’ alright?”

I shrugged. “Not bad. I’ll be glad to be home again, though.”

I waited for him to start talking, maybe tell me why he wanted to see me, but he remained silent. “Um…Dr. Henley said you wanted to talk to me?”

“Right, yes,” he said as if coming out from a daze. He threaded his fingers together. “Where to begin…”

He went quiet again. I glanced at Michelle and Ned, but they were both staring at the floor. What the hell was going on?

At last, Mr. Stark sighed. “Okay, well, after we got you to the hospital, we sent a team back out to the lab, you know, just to take a look around, look for survivors. And they found a couple of things you should know about.”

When he didn’t go on, I prompted, “Yes?”

He cleared his throat. “Well, first off, we found the records Dr. O’Connor kept during your, er, time there.”

“What do you mean ‘records?’” I asked.

“Some notes, plans for his next tests, and some…” He shifted in his seat. He wouldn’t look at me. “Video footage he took during the tests.”

Dead silence. My face felt hot. Oh God, they had read about…they had _seen_ exactly what happened down there? That explained why they were all acting so weird. How much did they know? Did they see it all? The operation, the bones being broken, that horrible noise? Did they know how badly I’d wanted to give up?

“How much did you…?”

He didn’t say anything, but I heard his answer loud and clear. I couldn’t bring myself to look at Ned and Michelle, though I was painfully aware of their presence. I doubted they saw the tapes themselves, or at least I hoped, but no doubt Mr. Stark had filled them in on what happened.

“I’m sorry,” Mr. Stark blurted out. “I realize that was an invasion of privacy, and you have every reason to be upset—”

“No, no, it’s fine. I understand.” I said. I really did mean it, but the tension in the room was clear as day. Anxious to change the subject, I said, “So, is that all you wanted to tell me?”

“There’s one more thing,” he started, apparently deciding how to continue. At last, he sighed. “Okay, well, there’s no easy way to say this, so I just will. Dr. O’Connor’s still alive.”

I stared. Last I heard, he had been blown up by Mr. Stark’s repulsors before we took off on the Quinjet.

I said so to Mr. Stark, but he just shook his head. “Yeah, that’s what we thought, too, until we got a team out there to take a look around and they found him, still alive, trapped under a fallen tree.”

“How long had he been there?”

“We sent the team out almost immediately, and they found him not long after. He’d been there maybe 36 hours tops.”

“Oh,” I said. I wasn’t exactly sure how to react to this news. “So where is he now?”

“Well, that’s the thing,” he shifted in his seat. “He was unarmed, see, and my team didn’t feel right about killing an unarmed man, no matter what he’d done, so they, er,” he cleared his throat. “They brought him here.”

My whole body locked up. “He’s… _here?_ Like in this building?”

“Yes, but he’s under top security, and both his legs are broken. And, let’s face it, it’s Avengers Headquarters. There are at least four Avengers between you and him; there’s no way he’s getting out of there, Peter, I promise.”

“Yeah, but…” I couldn’t quite wrap my head around it. He was _here?_ This whole time we were in the same building and I didn’t even know it? That knowledge, though it didn’t change anything, made me more scared than I wanted to admit. I thought he was dead. Of course, I wouldn’t wish death on anyone, but I thought Dr. O’Connor was someone I wouldn’t have to worry about anymore—he was gone. Now, though…

“Kid, it’s alright,” he said, reading my expression. “He can’t hurt you anymore.”

Couldn’t he? I hadn’t told anyone this, but I’d been having nightmares about him ever since arriving in the hospital. And that was when I thought he was dead. Now that I knew he was alive, and in this building, no less, I’d never sleep soundly again.

“So what do we do now?” I asked. “Will he stay here?”

“No,” Mr. Stark said firmly. Relief swept over me. “We’re sending him far away, some top-secret prison in South America, even I’m not exactly sure where. Cap is taking care of it. But before we can send him away, there’s something we need to do.”

“What is it?” I asked warily, not liking his tone.

He let out a long breath. “You see, Cap and some of the others are…suspicious.”

“Of Dr. O’Connor?” I said sarcastically. “How absurd.”

He gave me a look but ignored my comment. “See, we don’t know much about him. Some of them wondering if you weren’t the only one he experimented on.” He waited for me to get it.

“You’re saying there might be more people down there we don’t know about?” I asked, horrified. I hadn’t even considered that. Who knew what could’ve happened to them? They could’ve been blown up, or they could be trapped down there, starving and alone, or they could already be dead.

“Woah, calm down, kid,” he said, holding out his hands in a placating gesture. “We did a thorough sweep of the lab—there was no one else down there.”

I slumped into my chair in relief.

“But some of the others think there might be more facilities like that one, with more people like you down there.”

I frowned at his tone. He sounded more skeptical than anything. “And you don’t think so?”

“No I don’t. That lab was enormous, it was incredibly well protected, and very well hidden. The guy clearly poured all his resources into that one lab, I doubt there are others.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“Well…Cap and a couple of the others think it’d be better to play it safe and not to assume anything. So they want you to talk to Dr. O’Connor, see if you can get him to talk.”

I gaped at him. “Me? Why me?”

“Well, we tried of course, but he refuses to answer our questions. He keeps saying he’ll only talk to his…” He faltered.

“Little spider?” I finished. Mr. Stark nodded, not looking at me.

The room was very quiet while we digested the words. Dr. O’Connor wanted to talk to me. I wondered if it was some kind of trick, a ploy to get me back in his clutches. But that seemed unlikely. And Mr. Stark had a point, we were safe here.

I was terrified, but I forced myself to nod. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

“You sure?” He studied my face.

I tried to push down my fear. “When?”

He started at my abruptness. “He woke up a few days ago, so we’re ready any time.”

“So, can we do it now?”

“Now?” His eyebrows shot up. “You sure you don’t want to go home, wait a couple of days…?”

“No. I think it’d be better to just get it over with.” The truth was, I thought that if I went home and really had time to think about it, I would be too terrified to go through with it. This way, I could get it out of the way and not have to worry about it anymore.

“Well…I guess, if you’re absolutely sure.”

I nodded. “Yeah, let’s do it.”

Somewhat warily, Mr. Stark led me and my friends down a few halls, down a few floors, and through a couple of thick, metal doors. There were heavily armed guards posted here and there, becoming more and more frequent the closer we got.

I could tell we were all nervous. I started to second guess my decision more and more with every step we took. Somewhere close by was Dr. O’Connor, and I was about to face him again. Michelle and Ned kept tossing fearful looks in my direction. I did my best to ignore it.

Much sooner than I would’ve liked, we arrived. The hall was dimly lit with only a couple of flickering overhead lights. The walls and ceiling were a dull, cold grey and the floor was concrete. As for the door directly ahead of us, it was metal reinforced with dozens of bolts and a complicated looking lock.

“Oh my God,” Ned whimpered, staring straight ahead. In front of us stood none other than Captain America. He was wearing his uniform and his shield was slung over his back. Having seen him every so often on missions and visits to Headquarters, seeing him wasn’t a big deal. But for Ned, it was like a dream come true.

“Tony,” Captain America greeted as we approached. I never quite knew what to call him; I’d grown up seeing him as some distant figure, referring to him as Captain America. He’d told me I could call him Steve, but, like Mr. Stark, I couldn’t break the habit. Cap, maybe, but definitely not Steve.

Mr. Stark shook his hand. “Cap. Any updates?”

“Not since this morning, no.” He fixed his gaze on me and his eyes softened a little. “Hey, Peter. How you holdin’ up?”

“I’m fine,” I pressed my hands to my sides to stop them shaking. “These are my friends, they helped rescue me—Ned Leeds and Michelle Jones. Guys, this is…well, I guess I don’t really need to tell you who this is.”

“Pleasure,” Cap said, extending a hand to Michell first, then Ned. “I heard about how you helped Peter. That was pretty amazing. You ever need anything, you just let me know.”

I thought Ned was going to pass out right there. I was sure he was about to ask for his autograph, but luckily Mr. Stark spoke, saving us all from a potentially embarrassing moment.

“Is he awake?”

Cap crossed his arms over his chest. “Yes, he’s awake, but are you sure about this?” He asked both me and Mr. Stark. “He might still cooperate given more time. There’s no need to rush it if you’re not ready.”

Mr. Stark and I exchanged looks. He must have seen the fear, but also the determination.

I spoke for him. “Yeah, we’re ready. So, what do you want me to do?”

 

 

 

 

It wasn’t all that complicated. All I had to do was go in, ask a couple of questions and get out. My friends, along with Cap and Mr. Stark would be there the whole time. They assured me they would do most of the work, and that hopefully, my mere presence would be enough to get him to talk.

“Ready?” Cap asked, and at my confirming nod, pushed the door open. Mr. Stark put his hand on my shoulder before we entered.

Dr. O’Connor lay in the middle of the room, handcuffed to the bed. Part of me couldn’t help noting the irony. Though his eyes were closed and he lay perfectly still, he didn’t seem to be asleep; he appeared almost to be meditating. It was unmistakably him, though. I’d recognize his face anywhere.

“Oh, do I have visitors?” He asked cheerfully, despite his current situation.

“We have some questions for you,” Cap said, stepping forward. He sounded so authoritative and confident it made me feel just a little bit better; he knew what he was doing.

“So you’ve said. But unless you bring me my little spider, I’m afraid—”

“His name is Peter,” Mr. Stark snapped, voice shaking with fury. “And he’s right here.”

This seemed to surprise him. He cracked his eyes open slowly and peered at me so intently I couldn’t hold his gaze. I was ashamed at how quickly I fell apart.

“My, my, my,” he said, almost amused. I shivered. “Look who it is, my pet.”

Mr. Stark made a noise of protest, but Cap cut him off. “We did what you asked, he’s here. Now answer out questions.”

“Ah, but you see, I wished to see my little spider _alone,_ so you did not fulfill your end of the bargain and I therefore have no obligation to do anything.”

“You do realize your life is in our hands, right?” Cap said, his voice quiet but deadly. Any normal man would have been scared out of his wits, but Dr. O’Connor was no normal man.

He laughed. “What are you going to do, _Captain America?_ ” He said it like a joke. “Kill me? Torture me? That seems a little ruthless for you. Aren’t you supposed to be the good guys, always opting for mercy over revenge?”

“People change,” Mr. Stark growled. “And I, for one, have no such qualms about beating the shit out of this—”

“Tony,” Cap interrupted. He turned his attention back to the doctor. “We’re going to give you one more chance—was Peter the only one you experimented on, or are there others?”

He was silent. While I tried not to, I couldn’t help looking at him and when I did, I found him staring right back at me. There was no humanity in his eyes; it was pure madness. It scared me so bad I was tempted to run out of the room. But then I thought, what if there are others like me? They could be just as terrified, if not more. Who would help them if we didn’t?

“Look, he’s clearly not going to talk.” Mr. Stark said. “We’re not getting anywhere. There’s nothing else to do except send him away. Let’s go.”

“But what about everything else you said?” I asked as he started to leave. “What if he’s got other experiments going on that we don’t know about?”

“Peter,” Mr. Stark said, bracing his hands on my shoulders again. “It doesn’t matter. We’ve done everything we can, so let’s get out of here, okay?”

Dr. O’Connor was staring at me. I got the feeling he knew what I was going to say even before I said it. “We haven’t tried _everything._ ”

He stared. Then, shaking his head firmly, he said, “No. No, absolutely not. There’s no way—”

“He’ll talk to me,” I said reasonably.

“I don’t care! It’s not worth it. What if he tries something and you end up hurt again? I don’t trust this guy.” He shot him a death glare.

“Mr. Stark,” I said in what I hoped was a reassuring voice. “You said it yourself, it’s perfectly safe. He’s not getting out, what can he possibly do?” I tried not to show how terrified I was, but I knew I had to do it.

“Yeah, but…”

“I’ll just be a second, I swear. Please let me try.”

We had a silent staring contest. I could see the uncertainty, the internal battle raging in his eyes, but eventually he crumbled.

“Fine,” he said, defeated. “Two minutes. Two minutes and not a second more, understand?”

I nodded. He glanced warily at the doctor again, then back to me. “If he tries anything, if you get a weird feeling, just leave, okay? We’ll be waiting on the other side of the door.” And with that, he led everyone else out of the room. Michelle and Ned fixed me with fearful looks, so I tried for a smile. The did not look comforted, but they followed Mr. Stark out of the room nonetheless. I was alone with Dr. O’Connor again.

I didn’t know what to say. Part of me wanted to yell at him, part of me wanted to hit him, part of me wanted to run from the room. But the logical side of me won out; I had a job to do.

“So, it’s just you and me, yet again,” he said with a twisted smile. “Tell me, has your infection dissipated? I see your wrists are fully healed, and—”

“Stop,” I cut him off. He smiled. _Let’s get this over with so I can get out of here,_ I thought. “Are there any other labs?”

He looked hugely amused by this, which was annoying. I was going for an intimidating tone, but I guess that didn’t work out. But he did answer, which surprised me. “No, there are no other labs. That was the only one. And now it’s gone.”

“Oh,” I said, surprised that he didn’t sound more upset at the acknowledgement of his life’s work being destroyed. “So…there are no other places like that? No secret hideouts, facilities, lairs, nothing?”

“Nothing. As I said, that was the only one.”

All I wanted to do was sprint out of the room, but I made myself stay put. Something about how easily he was giving up the information made me suspicious—what was he playing at?

So I forged on. “Are there any others like me that you’ve been experimenting on?”

“Like you?” He laughed again. “My pet, you are unique; I’ve never come across anything quite like you.”

I bristled. “Answer the question.”

Smiling, he answered, “No, I have no other subjects. You are the only one.”

“I’m not one of your subjects,” I snapped. “I don’t belong to you, I never did.”

“You and I both know that’s not true.” He said quietly.

“What do you mean?”

“In all your time as ‘Spiderman,’ has anyone really tried to understand you?” He asked simply.

“What are you talking about? Of course—”

“NO,” he said with such force I stepped away. “I mean _truly_ tried to understand you, everything about you. Does anyone know how your abilities came to be? Does anyone know your limits? Do you yourself know any of these things?”

“No, but—”

“And did I not take you in to study you? To learn these secrets? To help you learn about yourself? To understand you in a way no one else does?”

There were a million things I wanted to say, but he mistook my silence for agreement.

“Exactly. I did what was necessary to uncover these truths, and what do they do? They locked me up like a criminal.”

“That’s because you _are_ a criminal.”

“ _Were you not listening?_ ” He shouted. I backed up again, really getting scared now. “I am the only one who cared enough to do what was necessary to learn about you! If your friends truly cared, they would too!”

Where he had been smiling not five seconds ago, he was now convulsing with a manic rage. His eyes bulged in his head, he snarled like a rabid animal. He was making no sense anymore; I had never been more convinced of his madness. “I know more about you than you know about yourself! You are _my_ experiment, not theirs!”

Mr. Stark and the others came bursting in at the sudden commotion. Dr. O’Connor thrashed against the handcuffs so forcefully blood started streaming from his wrists.

“You belong to _me!_ I’m the only one who understands you, my pet, my spider! They could never hope to understand you as I do! _You’re mine!”_

In all the chaos, I hadn’t realized I’d stepped back again, mere inches from Dr. O’Connor’s bedside. As soon as I was close enough, he lashed out and gripped my wrist in his hand so tight I thought he’d break the bones…again.

“Peter!” Mr. Stark shouted, running for me. Cap yanked his shield off his back and prepared to throw it.

If I hadn’t been so terrified, I could’ve pulled away no problem. But I was glued to the spot while he yanked me closer and hissed in my ear: “No matter where I go, no matter what you do, you will always belong to me, my little spider.”

I heard the familiar sound of a repulsor being prepared to fire, and I had half a mind dive for cover.

I don’t remember what happened next, just that the next thing I knew, Mr. Stark was leading me gently away from the scene, muttering words of comfort and reassurance. Before the door closed behind us, however, I looked back and saw Dr. O’Connor’s cold, dead eyes staring back at me.

 

 

 

 

Mr. Stark brought me, Ned, and Michelle back up to his office while he and Cap ran around making phone calls and writing reports. The next several hours were a flurry of activity; I didn’t even realize how much time had passed until I noticed the sun setting outside.

“Yes, we’ve got a team taking care of it as we speak,” Mr. Stark said, holding the phone in one hand and signing a document with the other.

Ned, Michelle, and I had hardly spoken since the incident. They were probably really scared and tired and confused, but I was grateful they were still here. Mr. Stark had offered to drive them home, but they said they’d wait with me. I couldn’t ask for better friends.

Mr. Stark collapsed in his chair, looking utterly exhausted. He rubbed his eyes before speaking. “Okay, I think that about does it. For now, at least.”

“So…what now?” I asked.

“Now, I think it’s time you got to go home. I think spending a night back in your own bed would be best.”

I tried to imagine it; going home after weeks spent in pain and fear. I’d get to hang out with Aunt May again. Not that I hadn’t seen her in the hospital—of course she was there, almost constantly, in fact, except for when she was working—but it wasn’t the same as, say, having a normal home-cooked (or home-burnt; Aunt May wasn’t the greatest cook) meal, maybe sitting on the couch watching TV or something. It seemed so foreign after everything that happened.

Mr. Stark insisted he drive us all home himself, despite being dead tired. He let Ned choose what car we took, so of course he chose the coolest, most expensive car of the bunch.

He dropped Ned off first, as he was the closest. We said goodbye, and I thanked him profusely for everything he did for me. When Mr. Stark said he could swing by Headquarters whenever he liked, I thought he might pass out.

Michelle’s place was a little further away, just a few blocks from mine, in fact. The drive to my apartment seemed longer then usual; none of us spoke, and there was still a clear air of discomfort between Michelle and me. I knew I should say something to her, or ask her what was wrong, but Mr. Stark was right there. Plus, if she hadn’t mentioned what the problem was before now, who knew if she even wanted to talk about it anymore?”

So I let it slide. Hopefully, we’d be back to normal soon and we’d forget about all the awkwardness.

Mr. Stark slowed to a stop in front of my building. “Well, I guess this is it.”

“I guess so,” I said. It was almost dark out now, and there were hardly any people out. Good thing, too; this car tended to draw attention. “Thank you both for everything. Seriously, I…” I couldn’t think of an adequate way to thank them. Luckily, they seemed to get the message.

Mr. Stark smiled. “Any time, kid. Now get outta here, get some sleep, you hear?”

“Yes, sir,” I said, returning the smile, which fizzled out as I looked at Michelle. She was trying to smile, too, but it was clearly strained. I felt guilty, though I wasn’t sure what I was guilty about.

I said a hasty goodbye and dragged myself and my suitcase out of the car. I had only just crossed the street, Mr. Stark had driven almost to the end of the block when it stopped abruptly and Michelle came running out, towards me. I met her halfway, confused, but not altogether displeased.

“Michelle?” I asked, seeing her conflicted expression. “What’s wrong?”

“I just wanted to say—” She started confidently, but as soon as she looked at me, she broke off.

“What is it?” I asked, genuinely concerned.

“Just…you know you can trust me, right?” She said in a rush.

I blinked. “Well, yeah. Of course I know that.”

“I mean, I know you and Mr. Stark are really close, and I mean, he knows about this sort of thing, so that’s understandable. And you’re a lot better friends with Ned than me, so I understand telling him—"

“What are you talking about?” I said, baffled. Closer friends with Ned than her? Didn’t she know how much she meant to me?

“—and of course, your Aunt, I get that, she’s family—”

“Woah, woah, woah, slow down.” I said, holding my hands out. She quieted, but she was still clearly upset. “Michelle, what is this about?”

She sighed heavily and finally met my gaze. “It’s just…I’m not mad at you, I’m just curious. Why didn’t you…” She looked uncomfortable; she said the last part so quietly I almost didn’t catch it. “Tell me you were Spiderman?”

I stared at her. “Is that what this is about? I’m so sorry, Michelle, I had no idea! But you should know—I didn’t tell _anyone_ about this, it’s not like I didn’t want to tell you.”

She gave me an obviously unconvinced look. “I’m being serious, Peter. I know you told them.”

“No, really, I didn’t—”

She threw up her hands, exasperated. “Peter! Why are you bothering to lie?”

“I’m not!” When she started to protest, I grabbed her hand, which effectively silenced her. I tried to ignore the tingling sensation that was now shooting up my arm. “Michelle, _listen._ I really didn’t tell them, okay? First, Mr. Stark found out, not really sure how, some crazy technology, I guess. But he found out and helped me out.”

 She still looked dubious, so I forged on. “Then there was Ned. I was being stupid and snuck into my room on the ceiling with my suit on without realizing he was there. Then pretty much the same thing with Aunt May not long after—she saw me wearing the suit. But I didn’t choose to tell any of them, okay? It’s not like I trusted them with this and not you, it’s not that at all. They just found out. And for what it’s worth, I should have told you. I’m sorry.”

She was staring at me wide eyed. Then her face split into a grin. It looked like the weight of the world had just been lifted from her shoulders.

We said goodnight, and she went back to the car and I went back up to my apartment. I couldn’t help but think, even after everything, it hadn’t been all bad. Ned was on a first name basis with two of the Avengers. May and I were closer than we’ve ever been. I found out Mr. Stark cared about me in a way I never knew. And Michelle knew my secret. There was nothing between us now, nothing that prevented us from maybe becoming something more.

That was the first peaceful night I had in weeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end! Thank you to everyone who read and enjoyed this story! Thanks for the kudos and the comments, I appreciate every single one!


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